


these shades can hide us from the streets

by wearecities (falsetto)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsetto/pseuds/wearecities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Some of the crew are going for a pint, there’s a pub just round the corner,” Harry says. “I’m going, you should too.”</i>
</p><p> <i>“I should?” Liam asks, a bit caught off guard. He hears Louis mimic him from behind, a quiet, high-pitched, mocking, ‘I should?’ Liam steps back and catches Louis’ foot under his.</i></p><p>  <i>“You know what they say,” Harry shrugs, grinning. “Keep your enemies closer.”</i><br/> </p><p>Harry and Liam are rivals, supposedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these shades can hide us from the streets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carissima](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/gifts).



> SO this is so late and im so so so so sorry but i hope you enjoy it maggie and sorry you had to wait. and as MUCH as i wanted to write your panto prompt, and ik how much you wanted that one, i saw this one and i couldn't resist. I'M SORRY. so many apologies. anyway, i hope you enjoy it! :D thank u to everyone who kicked me up the arse, specifically nicole and sharon who have been lovely and supportive as i cried big baby tears. and ani for being a wonderful beta!

“He’s got a choir,” Louis’ voice comes through the phone. “A _children’s_ choir. There’s about a hundred of ‘em, all dressed like snowflakes.” 

“Mhm.” Liam mumbles, trying to wake up as quickly as he can so he can actually follow this conversation. It’s barely light outside, which means that Louis hasn’t slept at all. “That’s nice.”

“It’s not _nice_ , Liam. It’s _evil_.” There’s the rustling of papers and slamming of drawers in the background, Louis muttering to himself the whole time. “Didn’t even give us a bloody chance, I know it’s only the teaser so the real thing could be a mess but where can you go wrong with snowflake children? Christmas goodwill my fucking ars--” 

“Louis,” Liam sighs, rolling over and pulling the duvet up to his chin. He’s not ready to get out of bed yet, no matter how distressed Louis sounds about what the supposedly horrifically evil Harry Styles has done today. “How were we supposed to know he’d be doing a Christmas song cover as well? We start promo next week and the video we have is ace. He’ll be shaking in his Santa boots when he sees what we’ve got.” 

If Liam’s being honest, he has no idea how this rivalry started. He doesn’t know how a rivalry can start between two people who’ve never had a full conversation, but the press continue to surprise him. Supposedly, Liam and Harry have not only had a full conversation but they’ve had punch-ups in several pubs in London and, last month, a truly horrific sounding battle in M&M’s World in New York. The worst part is that Liam’s never actually been to M&M’s world.

Maybe it was purely their circumstances; both X Factor hopefuls, kicked out before the live shows but both made it on their own eventually. Either way, Louis thinks it’s bloody hilarious. Liam sometimes thinks Louis is the Anonymous Source telling The Mirror that Liam’s made moves on Harry’s mum. He can go too far, sometimes. A little bit like now.

Louis makes a noise of frustration as he slams another drawer shut. “We should’ve got some snowflake children too.” 

“We can like, photoshop ‘em in or something, yeah?” Liam reasons, “or re-shoot the whole video. I’ll even be a snowflake.” 

“You’d make a rubbish snowflake,” Louis says, followed by a pause. “Jus’ think it’d be nice if you got Christmas number one. Makes me look good too, as your babysitter, something to put on the fridge--”

“--You’re not my babysi--”

“Love to see Styles’ face when it happens to be honest,” Louis continues, unphased. “Put that on the fridge too.”

“I’m not awake enough for this,” Liam mumbles, more to himself but Louis obviously hears it.

“Well, you better get a move on. Car’s coming for you in about an hour, picking me up on the way. Then we’re off to Zayn’s to talk wardrobe, he’s got some new bits.” Louis rattles off, talking a mile a minute. 

“How many cups of tea have you had?” Liam says, still face down in his pillow.

“Since we started talking or,” Louis trails off and Liam shakes his head.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.” Louis actually hangs up before him. Liam holds his phone to his ear for a minute before he finally musters up the energy to throw the covers back, rolling out of bed. 

 

\--

 

Liam watches the music video teaser at his kitchen table, over a bowl of Coco Pops. 

As it turns out, Harry’s not wearing Santa boots, but a very fetching pair of glittery ones. Tucked into them are the world’s most skin tight jeans, along with the world’s most see-through shirt. He’s not sure the snowflake children should be seeing this. 

There’s a pair of reindeer antlers in his hair, and he’s holding the tiniest child Liam’s ever seen. He makes faces at the camera, like he’s filled to the brim with Christmas cheer and it’s all very sickening. 

Liam, for some reason or another, watches the fifteen second clip another eight times before he’s interrupted by the honk of a car outside. He throws his cold Coco Pops away, grabs his coat, and watches the video again as he walks out of the door. 

 

\--

 

The first time Liam meets Harry properly-- not just an acknowledging smile across the red carpet, or passing each other backstage with their entourage tightly packed around them-- Liam’s got about ten minutes to run to the loo, get his hair done and no time to even think about how nervous he is for this interview. He’d blame Louis, but it’s not actually Louis’ job to set his alarm or get him dressed or wipe his bum as Louis goes on about more than necessary. 

The direction he’s running in is supposedly, as a lovely lady with a headset and clipboard informed him, his dressing room. But he’d been trying to frantically text Louis at the time to try and tell him he was just in the loo so he hadn’t really been listening. He’s doing the same now, trying to type ‘ _I’m coooommmmming!!!!_ ’ in reply to a string of expletives, when he runs straight into someone. 

“Oh shit,” Liam curses. Fortunately, he’s the only one of the floor. Unfortunately, he can’t seem to get up. “Oh shit, oh shit. I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, it’s alright,” says a voice from above. It’s deep and slow and Liam can’t quite put his finger on where he recognises it from. He’s a bit busy trying to stop his bum from being full on display, because these jeans are really stupid. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam says, still struggling to get off the floor. “God, these jeans are so bloody tight, underwear’s so far up my arse I can’t even feel my legs.”

There’s a laugh that sounds more like a startled bark and a hand in front of his face when Liam finally looks up.

It’s Harry. Of course it’s Harry bloody Styles because just the fact Liam slept through his alarm was a sign that today was going to be completely unfair. Now, he’s on the floor, his jeans are probably ripped, and he’s already managed to swear, fall over and talk about his arse before even saying hello. 

He really hopes no-one saw this, because next thing it’ll be in The Mail, front page with the headline ‘Liam Payne attacks rival Harry Styles in backstage brawl.’ He grabs Harry’s hand in an attempt to save the situation, letting himself be pulled upright. He not-so-subtly glances over his shoulder to check if his jeans are intact.

“Think you’re safe. Didn’t hear a rip,” Harry says. He’s grinning, dimples on show just like the papers say. And by the papers, Liam means Sugarscape. He has his own bedtime reading, just like anyone else. 

“Yeah,” Liam answers, still a little ruffled. “Sorry I haven’t even--” he pauses and holds out his hand, again, because he was brought up with proper manners. Even if Louis has dubbed Harry their mortal enemy, which Liam’s not too sure about. He’s watched enough movies to know that Super Villains don’t usually have butterfly tattoos and are usually followed by a cloud of eerie green smoke. “Hi, it’s nice to, uh, finally meet you.” 

“S’good to meet you too,” Harry says although he looks a little perplexed, like he can’t believe that Liam’s actually formally introducing himself. Liam can’t really believe it either. “At least if the paps ask me if we’ve had a tiff now, I can say you’re the one that ended up on the floor.” 

“Tell ‘em I went down fighting, please,” Liam jokes. Harry looks surprised for a second before his whole face creases with a laugh, nose crinkling up. 

“Dont worry, I’ll--”

“Oi! Harry!” A shout down the hallway cuts Harry off. He frowns, not just with his mouth but with his eyebrows and his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. He turns round to face the guy waving at him frantically. Liam’s so intrigued, Harry’s face is like really stretchy Play-Doh. “Stop fannying about and get that mop of yours sorted, you’re on soon.” 

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” Harry turns back round, Play-Doh face now rearranged to something more apologetic. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

He’s off before Liam can even reply, not that Liam really knows what Harry meant by later.

 

\--

 

As it turns out, 'later' meant on Graham Norton’s sofa, with Dame Judi Dench perched on Harry’s left, and Liam on the right. Liam doesn’t know how he didn’t figure it out before now. It’s just that it’s a big studio and there’s like, five thousand shows on telly, so Liam just assumed it was for something else. 

He was wrong, obviously.

He tries to hide his shock when Harry greets Graham after him, does his best to look as comfortable as possible when he’s nearly falling off the sofa. But Harry sits with his legs so far apart that three of Liam could fit in between them.

“So,” Graham starts, tapping his cue cards against his hand, turning his attention from Dame Judi to them. Even if the part where he’s sat next to Harry wasn’t weird enough, being so close to M from James Bond is even weirder. “It’s getting colder and, in my opinion, Christmas is always seen as a bit of a romantic season. Any of that for you two?” 

“Nope, single pringle this year.” Liam realises what he’s said about a half second after it’s come out of his mouth. Harry tries to cover a snort with a cough next to him, and Liam feels the heat on his cheeks before he can even try to stop it. The audience laughs, and Liam has to cover his face with his hands.

“Is that the same for you, Harry?” Graham asks.

“Yep,” Harry answers, popping the ‘p’ on the end, dragging it out for thirty seconds longer than necessary. “S’not so bad though, less presents to buy.” 

“Guess that’s one way of putting it.” Liam mumbles before he can stop himself, forgetting that he’s not actually friends with Harry. He knows how the papers are going to see it, almost immediately. But Harry just looks bewildered for half a second before he chuckles.

“Alright, lads. Calm down, calm down. This isn’t Jeremy Kyle.” Graham shakes his head. “You were very close with Sir Ian McKellen that last time you were here though, Harry.”

A picture of Harry and Sir Ian cuddled up on the sofa comes up on the monitors and the whole audience coos. It is quite cute.

“We have Sunday dinner whenever we can.” Harry nods as if having a roast with Gandalf is completely normal. The most Liam’s ever done is manage not to cry in front of Jay-Z and even that was a close call. “Nothing’s going on there though, I can promise.” 

“Well, this isn’t a dating show but maybe better luck this time?” Graham queries. He looks between Dame Judi and Harry, over exaggeratedly as the audience laughs. 

“Unfortunately, I’m taken. Sorry, dear.” Dame Judi says reaching over to pet at Harry’s hand. Harry nods solemnly. 

She’s very lovely, even if the title before her name had made her a little intimidating. Mainly because it’s an actual recognition, unlike the Lordship Liam’s sister had bought him. Lord Payno doesn’t have the same ring to it, really. 

“And behind door number two,” Graham announces with a grand sweeping gesture at Liam. Liam looks behind him, as if someone who Harry _hasn’t_ supposedly tried to kick in the head isn’t standing there. 

“Haven’t you heard we’re enemies?” Harry says in a stage whisper, cupping his hand over his mouth. The audience laps it up and Liam tries his hardest not to laugh too. It feels strange, actually acknowledging it. 

“Mortal enemies,” Liam says gravely with a fake grimace.

“We’re like a modern day Batman and Catwoman.” 

Liam stills. There is a good chance that this is some hilariously unfunny prank by Louis. That Punk’d is having a comeback series and Dame Judi Dench is going to peel off her face and reveal that she’s actually Ashton Kutcher.

There is also a chance that he’s still dreaming, tucked up in his bed having a nightmare. He pinches himself. It hurts.

“Uh, you know they actually get together,” Liam says slowly. “Well, at the end of the film. They’re together.” 

“Oh,” Harry says, he doesn’t sound embarrassed at all. He’s smiling as he shrugs. “Think I fell asleep before the end.” 

“Well,” Graham says, looking at a bit of a loss for words. Liam can understand that. Harry’s just still smiling at him, not taking back what he just said. “Well, well, well.” 

“Just like you said, Graham, Christmas is a romantic season,” Harry replies easily. 

Liam is lost. He’s so, so lost. He misses what Graham says next but suddenly they’re watching a clip for Dame Judi Dench’s new movie and Harry’s leg is very much pressed against his.

He’s going to kill Louis.

 

\--

 

Fortunately, the rest of the interview goes along without Harry implying that they’re going to save Gotham and run away to live in France together. Both their teaser clips are played and Graham brings up the Christmas number one, probably trying to incite some sort of argument. 

Harry’s nice about it though, just smiles as he says, “May the best man win.”

By the time they’ve watched some new indie band perform their debut single and seen Graham tip every single person in the Red Chair over, Liam feels a little less like he’s been dunked in a freezing cold tank of water.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Liam says as soon as he finds Louis amongst the bustle of backstage.

“Thought you might not want to do it if I did.” Louis shrugs. “You should’ve seen your face, though. I’m getting that framed.”

“Was it that bad?” Liam grimaces, taking his coat from Louis and pulling it on.

“No,” Louis answers. “Well, yes. Especially when he mentioned Batman. Told you he’s evil, fell asleep before it even ended. Who does that?” 

Liam opens his mouth to reply, when someone taps him on the shoulder. Louis makes a weird growling noise, and Liam guesses that’s because when he turns around, Harry’s behind him. 

“Some of the crew are going for a pint, there’s a pub just round the corner,” Harry says. “I’m going, you should too.”

“I should?” Liam asks, a bit caught off guard. He hears Louis mimic him from behind, a quiet, high-pitched, mocking, ‘ _I should?_.’ Liam steps back and catches Louis’ foot under his.

“You know what they say,” Harry shrugs, grinning. “Keep your enemies closer.”

“Right,” Liam nods. There are words in his head but nothing’s going past his tongue. It doesn’t help that Louis is punching him in the back, in an attempt to get Liam to step off his foot. 

Harry pauses for a second longer, before giving Liam one last smile and taking off down the corridor.

 

\--

 

“You’re not really gonna go, are you?” Louis asks for the fourth time. They’re in the back of an Addison Lee, halfway across London.

“Jesus Christ, Tommo,” Liam sighs, exasperated. “Would it be so bad if I did?” 

“Yes,” Louis answers, bluntly. He’s typing away on his Blackberry as he talks, laptop open next to him and iPhone held in the other hand. There’s a reason Liam doesn’t let Louis drive him around anymore, and the main one is that Louis would still be doing all of this while trying to navigate Central London’s rush hour. 

It’s nice that Louis is always on top of things. Which is a great skill in a personal assistant, but it’s also great not fearing for your life on a drive home.

“He was nice.” Liam shrugs. Funny, too. Also alarmingly fit. Liam doesn’t voice those opinions, for his own safety. Louis’ not driving the car but he could still push him out of it.

“Don’t trust ‘im,” Louis says simply, chucking his Blackberry back in his bag and focusing on his iPhone instead. Liam’s not sure if he’s doing anything important or just playing Quiz Up. “He’s trying to get into your head, steal your secrets. I know the game.”

“I’m sorry, didn’t realise we were starring in the new Spy Kids movie.” 

“Spy Kids?” Louis finally looks up from his phone, lips pinched tight together like he’s trying not to laugh. “Is that the only thing you could think of? Not, like, Mission: Impossible? Bourne Identity? You’ve just sat on a sofa with the head of MI6 and you couldn’t even think of ‘ _the name’s Payne, Liam Payne_.” 

“Leave me alone,” Liam drags out. “Spy Kids is a sick film.”

“Whatever you say, Payno.” Louis puts his hands up in surrender. He falls quiet for a second, looking over Liam’s face. Liam tries to not squirm under the stare. “I just-- I’ve seen what they say about him in the papers.”

“And you’ve seen what they say about me too,” Liam argues. “Last week I was having pre-orgy Satanic ritual at the back of a Wetherspoons during a four day bender.”

“Liam,” Louis says, aghast. “Where was my invite?” 

Liam shakes his head, laughing, and buries his face in his hands. 

“Well, I’m going around Zayn’s after this if you wanna join. He said something about a snake, I dunno.” Louis offers.

“Nah,” Liam declines. “I’m knackered, think I’m just gonna head home.” 

Louis narrows his eyes. Liam yawns wide, right in Louis’ face. Louis narrows his eyes more.

“Alright,” Louis finally says, although he doesn’t sound like he believes him. Liam yawns again, stretching his arms and hitting Louis in the face. Louis slaps him in return.

 

\--

 

They drop Louis off at Zayn’s flat first. Liam waits until Louis has waved goodbye from outside the gate and gone inside the front door until he takes the chance to lean forward across the seats, making a split second decision.

“Sorry to do this to you mate,” Liam says, putting on his most polite voice. The one he uses on the phone when he talks to his Nan. “But d’ya think you could head back to where you picked us up? Think I forgot my phone.” 

His phone is in his hand, a detail forgotten for a second until he tucks his hand inside his coat to hide it. 

It’s all part of a plan, really. A great very well thought out plan to get Christmas number one. Liam’s just gaining intel, getting into the mind of the enemy. Just a few drinks to loosen the tongue and then Liam’s gone. Louis would be proud, except he’s never going to know because Liam’s never going to tell him.

The driver gives him a look through the rear view mirror. “I’ll pay you double?”

“Alright,” The driver says in a gruff tone. Liam peeks out the window for the second time to check Louis isn’t tucked away in the bushes watching him. The driver does a quick three point turn, and takes off the way they came.

Just like Spy Kids.

 

\--

 

This was a stupid idea. It was a stupid, ridiculous idea and yet, here Liam is, wandering around the fourth Pub within walking distance of the studios he was just in. Turns out, when you’re in London, there are many corners and many pubs around them. 

Luckily, it’s the post-work rush. None of the people grabbing a pint before they have to commute home seem to take any notice of the lost popstar. 

“Liam?” He hears from nearer the back as he does another crowd sweep. He turns, and there’s Harry, head bobbing up over the crowd. He waves at Liam. “Wait, stay there I’ll--” 

The commotion of the crowded pub cuts him off but he’s in front of Liam within a second, tripping over the leg of a pulled out chair. Liam steps forward, catching him round the waist.

“Careful,” Liam says and Harry grins easily, as if he’s used to having two flippers for feet. 

“Hope no-ones got their phone out, they’ll think we started round two.” Harry rights himself and Liam takes a step back. “At least if I was on the floor, it’d look like you won that time.”

Oh, the rivalry. Right.

“Sorry I took so long, had to go home to change my--” Liam pauses, looking down. He’s wearing the exact same clothes as before. “My socks.”

“Your socks?” Harry asks, cheeks dimpling, lips pressed tight together. He wants to laugh, Liam can tell. It’s nice that he’s not. 

“Yep,” Liam replies because there’s no way of turning back. “Never know where the night’s gonna take you, just thought I’d be prepared.”

“Well,” Harry says, and he’s not backing away or checking his watch, like he’s going to make an excuse to leave. “Should have brought an extra pair because I’m about to knock them off.”

“That was awful,” Liam grimaces, covering his face.

Harry just grins at him, like he’s proud of himself. Liam has a feeling like this is only the beginning.

 

\--

 

Liam is right. It _is_ only the start. Harry has an interesting sense of humour, and for some reason Liam can’t stop laughing, burying his face in his hands while Harry tells a joke bad enough to be featured in a Christmas cracker. 

None of the rest of the people there seem to be paying them much mind, basking in the tab that Harry had started when he’d taken Liam over to the bar. Liam’s already on his fourth drink of the night, which is three more than anticipated, but he can’t bring himself to leave.

It’s like he said and didn’t say in the car journey. Harry’s nice. Also fit and funny, and sits pressed up next to Liam on the bench even though they’re the only ones on it. He does this cackle which literally bursts out of him when Liam says something which wasn’t meant to be a joke, but is obviously funny. His long meandering stories fill up the parts that should be awkward, and Harry listens. Very intensely, with his eyes trained on Liam’s mouth. Which is something.

It’s a little weird, sitting across from his supposed nemesis and discussing Christmas plans. Presents to buy sisters, what size of container could fit the amount of tears their mums have cried since they’d made it big. And, most importantly, if brussel sprouts are, in fact, the root of all evil. They are, by Liam’s standards. Harry likes them on the principle that he feels bad for them.

It’s even weirder when they’re outside. And Liam’s just got to the end of his cigarette and Harry’s hands are buried deep in his coat pockets to keep them from the cold, when they end up kissing. That’s the most important part, really. That they’re kissing.

If Liam takes a few steps back then maybe he should’ve seen it coming.

Harry had bought a round of drinks, then Liam, and then Harry again. Each pint had settled in the pit of Liam’s stomach, warm and heavy and slowly spreading to his fingertips. It was so hot inside, made him so dizzy that he’d needed to duck outside on his way back from the loo as he felt through his pockets for his cigarette packet.

Harry had come out a moment later. He was trying to pull his glove on his right hand off with his teeth when his phone buzzed in his left hand. He’d given up after a good struggle, frowned down at it for a moment before he pressed the answer button with his nose.

Liam planned to remain unseen, but he let out a burst of laughter and Harry had looked up, smiled at him before he brought the phone up to his ear. 

The phone call was brief. Mostly Harry nodding, which made Liam feel some sort of baffled endearment where he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“This isn’t the loo,” Harry said as he pocketed his phone and surveyed the area like he’d suddenly find a hidden urinal. 

“Needed some air,” Liam said as he flicked the ash off his cigarette. Time to think too.

This morning, he and Louis had done a rousing rendition of Harry’s first number one single where they’d switched most of the lyrics with different ways of saying poo. Things change, it seems. 

“Thought you’d run out on me there,” Harry said as he took a step closer to Liam until there was only another step between them.

“Not just yet, haven’t got you to spill all your top secret plans,” Liam said. He’d have to thank Louis for that line later, not that he ever planned on telling Louis that this happened. 

“Ah, don’t have any of them. Crap at lying.” Harry shrugged and then looked up. He squinted at something above Liam’s head. “Hey, is that mistletoe?” 

It was freezing outside, but at that moment Liam got even colder. He looked up.

“I don’t know what mistletoe looks like,” Liam offered. It just looked like a leaf though. Maybe an empty crisp packet that had gotten itself stuck on the trellis above him.

“It could be mistletoe,” Harry said. He really was crap at lying.

Contrary to popular belief, Liam isn’t a complete idiot. He had known what Harry was doing. He just wasn’t exactly sure how he wanted to respond.

But there are eyes in his face. A brain in his head, a heart in his chest, and some weird tingly sort of feelings in his nether regions which somehow connect with the way that Harry had looked at him in that moment.

“It _could_ be mistletoe,” Liam said, mind made up. 

You do only live once, that’s the motto and all that. 

Started from the bottom and now Harry’s fingers are curled around his jaw. Liam’s hand is on Harry’s waist and there’s the sound of a drunken verse of _Fairytale of New York_ starting inside.

So, they’re kissing. And it’s weird. Except that it’s not that weird and it’s actually quite pleasant. Harry tastes of the toffee flavoured cider he’s been drinking all night, and his lips are warm when it feels like they’re actually standing inside an iceberg. And it’s nice to have to lean up a little bit because Harry’s boots give him the slightest height advantage. 

He’s never been kissed under mistletoe before. At least not like this. There’s been sloppy drunken open mouthed lunges at him which mostly ended up with him pulling away and wiping at his mouth. But if there was a scale, this kiss would be on the other end of it. It’s softer, more careful. The material of Harry’s gloved fingers catches on Liam’s stubble as he tries to pull Liam closer, the slow drag of Harry’s tongue against Liam’s following that. 

Liam’s forgotten cigarette finally calls his attention, burning the inside of his fingers. 

“Shit,” Liam hisses, pulling back quick and dropping it. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he presses them to his lips in an attempt to soothe the pain.

Harry’s still a centimetre away from his face, watching Liam with this amused smile, lips slightly red. The moment is definitely ruined, tugged away from them so quickly that Liam laughs, bemused about how they got there in the first place. Harry chuckles too, taking a step back.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” Harry says, taking a look around. The beer garden’s empty, because no-one in their right mind would be outside when it’s this cold. Liam isn’t exactly in his right mind at this moment though, not really. 

“Oh, I. Yeah, it’s--” Liam fumbles, trying to push down the disappointment. Harry seems to catch on, shaking his head and placing his hand on Liam’s shoulder.

“No I mean, like _here_. Specifically,” Harry says. “Lots of people with phones and twitters.” He pauses, waves his hand in front of him. “ _The Cloud_ , heard that’s not even safe anymore.” 

Liam’s stomach flips and Harry’s just-- there’s just something about him. He’s read stuff, it’s hard to miss it when it’s literally all over the internet but he’d never expected it to be like this. For Harry to duck his head and smile and the red light of the outdoor heater to hit his face in just the right way and for Liam’s chest to go tight and his palms sweat.

The unabashed way Harry wants him is something new too. Usually it’s numbers exchanged, texting until two in the morning about absolutely nothing until it’s dinner and shy kisses on doorsteps. 

But Harry had made his choice when he’d placed his hand on Liam’s thigh as he talked. When his fingers grazed the inside of Liam’s leg. When he’d kissed him as soon as he got the chance. 

So, really, Liam should’ve seen it coming.

“My house isn’t too far from here, we could--” Harry trails off, leaves Liam to fill in the blanks he’s already worked out.

“I can call a car,” Liam offers, patting his pocket to find his phone. He doesn’t really know where his head’s at. This was supposed to be a few drinks out of pure curiosity and now he’s kissed Harry Styles. The world is strange. "Meet you there? Might be weird if we leave together.”

Harry startles, like he suddenly forgot that anyone seeing them getting in a car together could start something. Maybe break Twitter. Maybe make Louis spontaneously combust.

“That’s probably a good idea.” Harry nods, taking his own phone out. 

Instead of helping, Liam watches as Harry struggles to get his gloves off again before giving up and navigating through his contacts with the tip of his nose.

 

\--

 

It’s a one night stand. Liam can do a one night stand, he’s perfectly capable. It’s not like Zayn, who is _engaged_ and was looking at _floral arrangements_ the last time they had a Lads Night, had dubbed him a serial monogamist. It’s not like this is the longest he’s ever gone between relationships. A gaping span of three months where he’s spent a lot of it watching Millionaire Matchmaker. It’s fine.

It’s fine when Harry greets him at the door by letting him take his shoes off. And it’s fine when he takes Liam’s coat off him, passing him an overly large glass of red wine. And it’s fine when he’s leading him through the house, glancing back with a smile. 

The hallway is bare, and there’s the faint smell of drying paint. The room Harry takes him to is nothing but a mass of lit candles on the floor and two big comfy looking cushions. 

“Sorry about the--” Harry cuts off, draping Liam’s coat over the back of a lone dining chair. He does a sweeping gesture of the room and Liam's gaze follows it; takes in the stacks of boxes, empty fireplace and sad looking Christmas tree. It’s not even a pine tree, just some potted thing with massive leaves and tinsel glued on them. The angel on top looks a bit like Keith Richards. “Still trying to get the place sorted.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Liam reassures. 

Harry pokes him in the chest, “you are too polite, Liam.”

“‘M’not, not really. Had a fight with the Empire State Building once,” Liam counters. He’s rambling and Harry’s very close to him and they’re probably going to get naked in a second, if Liam’s reading the situation right, and--

He’s still pretty tipsy, he’d tried to sober himself up with a truly inspiring pep talk, staring into his reflection in a car window when he was waiting outside the pub. It hadn’t worked. But Harry seems worse off, as he nearly kicked five of his two hundred candles over when he made his way over.

Harry looks at him for a moment. Half like he wants to pinch Liam’s cheeks, and half like he wants to eat him alive. Liam is equally worried by both.

“You,” Harry finally begins. After he’s stared at Liam like a serial killer for a second longer, “are not what I expected.”

“What did you expect, then?” Liam asks, curious. 

“Well, for one, this was not on the poster my little cousin has in her room.” Harry taps his finger against Liam’s neck, just where his birthmark is. 

Liam nods solemnly, “Fame’s concept of beauty is cruel.” 

It’s something that Zayn had said to him way back when Liam had his first full double page spread in Teen Vogue. Harry huffs out a laugh, and Liam can feel his breath fan across his face.

“Secondly, I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me back,” Harry says. He’s close, so close and he’s maybe just admitted that he’s been thinking about kissing Liam for longer than just tonight. 

“These are all good things, I hope,” Liam says.

“That's a very nice birthmark,” Harry says seriously, and Liam ducks his head, biting his lip. 

He knows they’re tip-toeing the edge of the inevitable, that there’s about a inch of space and two wine glasses in between what they’d come back to Harry’s to do. Liam’s decided that he likes surprising Harry, so before Harry can say anything more he takes the glass out of Harry’s hand and places them on the floor next to him before he straightens up and kisses him.

It’s a shame that he never got to drink the wine, because it’s probably something ridiculously expensive. But, then again, it’s probably better as he’s never really had the taste for it, would be a waste anyway. He’s pretty sure the small, startled hitch of breath Harry intakes when Liam pulls him closer tastes better, anyway. 

Harry’s lips are still as warm as they were when they were outside, although there’s the faint taste of mint like Harry hurriedly brushed his teeth before Liam arrived. Like he was a bit nervous too. It’s not right that just that small detail makes Liam groan, press closer and tangle his fingers in the back of Harry’s hair.

There’s no need to be shy now that they both know where this is going.

“I have a bed,” Harry says. He’s still trying to kiss Liam through his words but Liam pulls back just the slightest bit. 

“That’s good,” Liam replies, because it doesn’t seem like Harry has much furniture. But a bed is a good starting place. 

Harry’s laughing again but instead of hearing it, Liam feels it where their chests are pressed together and where their lips hover on the edge of another kiss.

“C’mon, the floor always sounds like a great idea until you get rug burn,” Harry says, more audible now that he’s not trying to transfer the words into Liam’s mouth via his tongue. Liam looks down, noticing the rug. He can add that to the list of furniture Harry owns.

Liam expects Harry to take a step back, to let Liam follow him, but he just fists his hands in Liam’s shirt, walking backwards and pulling Liam along with him. Probably not the greatest idea, when they’ve literally bumped into each other twice and there’s a hundred little fire hazards around the room but Liam has lost any of the remaining traces of the sensible nature he once had. 

They stumble through the rest of the living room and out into the hall and thankfully not towards the stairs as it seems Harry’s made one of the ground floor rooms his. Harry pushes a little too hard and Liam’s back hits a wall, Harry stumbling into him, breaking the kiss. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles but Liam just shakes his head. He likes it, likes that Harry’s not this perfect mould of Celebrity, something Liam tried to be for all of ten minutes, that he’s rough around the edges. That he’s pink in the cheeks and his hair’s a mess and he seems really, really eager to get Liam undressed. 

If Harry had asked, that’s what Liam would say he wasn’t expecting. 

It’s taking much longer than necessary, their legs keep getting tangled and Harry has to keep checking over his shoulder to make sure they’re going the right way. If Liam wasn’t so hard, he’d probably be laughing. 

When they nearly go careening towards the floor for the eighth time, Liam decides that’s enough. 

“Put your arms around my neck,” Liam says. More demands. Harry quirks his eyebrow.

“Like-- strangle you? Learning new things every minute with you, Liam.” 

Liam pinches his side, “No, like this,” he maneuvers Harry’s arms, “Okay, hold on.”

Harry grips tight and Liam uses the leverage of the wall behind him to pick him up, trying not to grin too wide at the startled yelp Harry lets out.

“Shit,” Harry breathes. His pupils are blown and he’s looking at Liam like he wants to eat him alive again. Which is mainly the reaction Liam was going for. 

Harry’s not exactly the lightest thing in the world but if Liam moves quickly he hopefully won’t drop him until they can get to something soft. 

“Which room?” Liam pants, a little out of breath. Harry’s still kissing him, his neck and the top of his shoulder where his shirt’s been pulled out of place. 

“Last on the left. My left. Your right. There’s literally only one room, it’s that one.” It seems that not even this can stop Harry’s babbling. 

They make it to the room without so much as a scratch, except for the reddened patch of skin Harry’d sucked against Liam’s collarbone, and Liam drops Harry carefully on the bed, standing for a second to gather his bearings. 

He doesn’t get that second, because the only thing he sees is Harry lounging back on the bed, propped up on his elbows with his knees bent and legs spread apart. His lips are slick with the remains of their kisses and he’s just watching Liam, chest moving with deep breaths. 

They haven’t even got their clothes off yet and Liam’s already pretty sure he’s going to die. In a good way, if that’s possible. Like being suffocated by kittens, drowning in a lake of Capri-Sun, coming so hard your brain melts out your eyes. 

“Give us a show then, while you’re up there,” Harry says and it sounds like he’s joking but he doesn’t know Harry well enough to actually be sure. He’s trying not to think about that too much, how he knows barely anything about Harry’s life or even just small things like why Harry’s house is currently a construction site with a funny looking plant in the middle of it. 

Instead, he slowly pops the first button of his shirt and then the next and the next. Harry pulls his wallet out of his jeans, realises he has no cash in there and just starts throwing his bank cards at Liam. Thankfully, he stops before Harry’s Tesco’s Clubcard can hit him in the eye.

Liam shakes his head with a laugh, saving himself from further embarrassment by getting on the bed, knee walking up it until he’s in between Harry’s legs. 

It’s more intimate, now they’re not in the back of a gloomy pub or trying not to cause too much damage to Harry’s freshly painted hallway walls. Liam places a hand either side of Harry’s head, holding himself up over him and Harry meets him halfway, pressing up on his hands to slide their mouths together again. 

There’s only three buttons left done up on his shirt and Harry goes for them, falling back against the bed to lie down and letting Liam follow him, completely covering Harry with his own body.

Without Harry’s boots on and with the fact they’re now horizontal they line up perfectly, which means when Liam lifts his chest slightly to let Harry at his shirt and his hips press down in the process, he can feel the thick line of Harry’s dick against him.

Liam groans, pulling back to rest his forehead on Harry’s shoulder to catch his breath. Harry manages to get the last of his shirt undone and starts pushing it off his shoulder, kissing each part of newly exposed skin. It’s not helping Liam catch his breath at all but he’s not going to stop him.

Sitting up, Liam forgoes trying to get his fingers to work on undoing Harry’s shirt and instead pushes it up as far as he can, exposing two tattoos on Harry’s hips that literally point towards his dick. The fact still stands that Liam isn’t a complete idiot and he knows exactly where he’s going with that new piece of information.

There’s goosebumps all over his skin and Harry’s clutching at Liam’s shoulders, fingers digging in when Liam runs the flat of his tongue over Harry’s nipple, feeling it peak under his touch. 

“Fuck, Liam,” Harry gets out through a moan. He’s said his name several times during tonight but Liam decides immediately that that’s his favourite so far. So much so that he drags just the edge of his teeth over Harry’s hardened nipple just to try and get it out of him again.

Harry fists his hand in the long hair at the top of Liam’s head, tugging until Liam moves back up, level with Harry’s face again. Harry kisses him, hard and bruising and with no hint of finesse or-- just like he’s not trying to impress. Just like he feels good and he wants Liam to feel good and Liam’s so, so achingly hard. 

Zayn does such a good job as his stylist but it would be nice if these jeans didn’t have the potential to cut off his circulation. Maybe he’ll give him some feedback, good fit, great design, maybe more erection room next time. 

“I’m going to warn you,” Harry says as Liam goes for his neck, “if you had any expectation of me lasting long, you’re about to be surprised.” 

Liam giggles. Actually giggles against Harry’s neck and Harry huffs out a laugh too, carding his fingers through Liam’s hair instead of the death grip he had earlier. 

He’s not sure how slightly alcohol-fueled one night stands are supposed to go but he’s glad that it’s easy, this fun. 

“Maybe you should get out of those jeans, first,” Liam advises. “They look pretty expensive.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to have to explain that to the dry cleaner.” Harry pulls a face and Liam decides that it’s a face he wants to kiss, so he does. 

Somehow, they manage to get their jeans off in between trying to become melded together at the mouth, although Liam nearly just tells Harry to cut his off when they get stuck at his thighs. They’d had to flip over, Liam laying out on his back so Harry could wrestle them off. 

“Burn these, please,” Harry says, when he finally tugs them off. He chucks them across the room with such force that they get caught on a lamp and send it crashing to the floor. “See, look what they did. Keeping me away from your dick, breaking my furniture.”

“I’m sorry?” Liam questions more than apologises, although it’s hard to get out when he’s laughing. Half naked in Harry’s bed and he’s having a giggle fit. 

Harry’s still kneeling up just next to Liam’s legs and he goes quiet, watching Liam. After a moment, Liam manages to settle down, noticing the mood in the room has changed. He feels a bit exposed, laid out with no point of contact with Harry, a slither of space between them.

The room’s dark, just the hint of light from a street lamp outside the window shining through a gap in the curtains. But Liam can make out every line of Harry’s body, now that Harry’s pulled his own shirt off too. The soft part of his stomach, the dark smudges of tattoos littered across his skin, the sharp cut of his hips. Only Harry’s boxers remains and they’re tiny, stretched out low across his hips leaving pretty much nothing to the imagination. 

He’s fit, he’s so fit and Liam wants him so bad that it’s almost embarrassing. 

There’s that look again, on Harry’s face. Liam doesn’t quite know how to take it yet but it’s led them to this point so maybe it isn’t so bad. 

Still without a word, Harry moves closer, lets the exposed parts of their skin brush as he slowly crawls up Liam’s body until they’re completely aligned. He kisses him softer this time, cradles Liam’s jaw in his palm as he settles his body over him. 

Liam doesn’t know where to put his hands, goes for Harry’s shoulders and then slides them down, covers the plane of Harry’s back as he moves them down further, coming to rest on the curve of Harry’s bum. He pulls Harry against him and groans as Harry’s dick grinds against his. 

It’s another split second decision of the night, to get through the fact his brain’s swimming as Harry works his hips in slow circles and croak out, “D’ya have a condom?”

“Uh,” Harry offers, coherently. If it’s one night Liam’s getting, then he’s going to make the most of it. Go the distance. He’s always set big goals for himself. And he hasn’t been fucked in a long, long time. 

“So you can fuck me,” Liam says. He isn’t the best at bedroom talk but Harry looks like his brain’s just blown a fuse, mouth hanging open. “I mean, if you’d like.”

Harry seems to snap out of it then, shaking his head like he’s getting all of the parts back in the right place as he gives Liam a slightly exasperated look. “If I’d like? Jesus Christ, Liam. Of course I’d like. Like very much. Love to, infact.”

In the space of what feels like thirty seconds, Harry fumbles a condom out from under his bed along with some lube and then proceeds to shove his boxers down and chuck them in the direction of the now-broken lamp. He’s not sure what the etiquette on staring is during sex with a practical stranger but it’s hard to look away when Harry’s cock, hard and glistening at the tip, slaps up against his belly.

Harry doesn’t give him much time to stare anyway, as he settles himself next to Liam on his side and hooks a finger in his waistband. Any sign of teasing’s gone out the window, Harry ridding Liam of his boxers too. 

Liam doesn’t know why it’s surprising, how gentle Harry is. How the first touch of Harry’s fingers to his throbbing dick is featherlight until Liam’s pushing up into it, trying to make Harry grip him tighter although he knows it’s going to be too much. 

From where he’s flat on his back, Liam turns his head, noses at Harry’s cheek until Harry turns too, their mouths meeting. He doesn’t want soft and gentle, not right now, and he makes sure Harry knows this. Nipping at Harry’s bottom lip he pushes into the kiss, turns it filthy and sloppy and fucks his tongue into Harry’s mouth.

Liam rolls over, straddles Harry’s hips again as he fumbles through the bed sheets to find the lube.

“I thought--” Harry starts, catching sight of what Liam’s doing when Liam sits up.

“Yeah, I still want to,” Liam says, concentrating on not letting his hands shake. It’s not nerves, it’s something else. Something more exciting. A little terrifying too. “Just putting on that show you asked for.”

Liam pumps the lube onto his fingers and Harry groans, throwing his arm over his face like he can’t bear to look. Liam knows it’s mostly put on, can see the edge of Harry’s grin through it. 

It’s weird, that he’s known Harry for all of a few hours but he feels like he could do anything. Could dance on top of the Queen’s dining table in nothing but a top hat with Harry in tow and not be embarrassed. Probably not the most eloquent way of putting it, but it’s a hard feeling to describe.

Liam braces himself with his arm just next to Harry’s head and bends further forward so he can get his other hand behind him. The first touch is cold, but he pushes past it and his breath hitches as he slips his first finger in. 

“I can’t even see the show though,” Harry whines with an honest to God pout and Liam’s never laughed with a finger up his arse but he guesses there’s a first time for everything. “Knew I should’ve got that ceiling mirror.”

“Could give us a hand,” Liam says, his voice throatier than normal. He’s managed to press another finger inside himself although the angle has his wrist bent at a funny angle. It’s good, the pleasure and the look on Harry’s face is enough to counteract the pain. 

“I could give you two,” Harry replies. “But that’d take a lot more lube.” 

Liam groans and drops his head to Harry’s shoulder. He’s so terrible and Liam really, really likes it. 

It turns out that Liam really, really likes it when Harry presses a finger in alongside his, kissing him hard as Liam pushes back into it. It’s less of a surprise, that he really, really likes the feeling of slowly sinking down on Harry’s dick. 

He takes a deep breath when he’s fully seated, hand splayed across Harry’s sweat slick chest. Harry’s stroking his hands up and down Liam’s thighs, soothing him. 

“Alright?” Harry asks, voice just above a whisper. The air in the room feels thick; Liam’s struggling to catch his breath but that’s probably not the reason. Harry’s stare is just a bit too much to handle right now.

“Yeah,” Liam breathes out. “Feels good. S’been a long time.”

He’s not sure right now is exactly the time for honesty hour but he’s got other things to think about. 

“Hey, come here.” Harry’s voice is gentle, just like his hands on Liam, and Liam leans down, lets Harry kiss his jaw and his cheekbone and then finally his mouth. “If it’s too much, we can stop.”

“S’okay, I’m okay,” Liam promises and seals it with a kiss. 

He starts to move then, slow, small circles with his hips and, fuck, it’s so much. So, so much but it’s something Liam loves, being full and stretched and, just for one moment, not being able to have a single coherent thought. 

He gets braver with his movements, shifting until he’s got the perfect angle. Harry’s hands settle on his hips and he’s fucking up into Liam too, feet flat against the mattress and he’s mumbling under his breath; Liam only manages to catch half of what he’s saying. 

“So good,” Harry moans and Liam straightens up, leaning back. He’s on full display now, dick leaking and smearing precome over his stomach as it slaps up with every thrust. “So fucking good.”

Liam lets out half a whine and he’s so glad that Harry admitted earlier on that he wasn’t going to last long because Liam can already feel the end coming for him. 

“Touch me,” Liam gasps as Harry thrusts particularly hard and then adds, “please,” because Harry thinks he’s polite. 

Harry does just that, wraps his fingers around Liam’s dick and just lets Liam fuck up into his grip as he thrusts. Liam doesn’t know how long it takes, has no concept of anything right now except one minute he’s sitting up and the next he’s falling forward, gasping as his come dribbles down the sides of Harry’s fingers.

“Keep going,” he manages to say even though he’s not even sure he’s a human being anymore, more like a puddle of his former self. “Come inside me.”

Harry groans, seems to be using the last of his strength so he can sit up, circle one arm around Liam’s hips to hold him in place as he thrusts into him. Liam tries to help, kneeling up over Harry’s lap as he kisses him, pulling back when he feels Harry’s fingers trail up his chest, past his neck and to his mouth. His lips part, letting Harry push his come covered fingers into Liam’s mouth. He licks them clean, swirls his tongue around the pads of Harry’s fingers and that’s it for Harry, his eyes screwing shut as his hips stutter.

Harry kisses him, again and again and again until Liam has to pull himself away, gasping for air.

“Nnghh,” Harry garbles, flopping back against his bed, arms flailing out above his head. Liam feels about the same, wincing slightly as he moves, lying almost uncertainly next to Harry as Harry deals with the condom.

It’s silent, except for the sound of Harry’s breathing and the hushed noise of traffic outside. Liam doesn’t know what to do now, whether he should give it a minute or two before he rushes off or whether he should leave now. Maybe now is a better option.

“Where are you going?” Harry asks, as soon as Liam sits up. He’s peeking out from under his arm, still sprawled completely starkers on top of his sheets. 

“I--” Liam cuts himself off, shrugging helplessly. 

“You don’t have to leave. Well, you can if you want but,” Harry looks at him like he’s a little upset and Liam doesn’t really know how to comprehend that, “I mean, it’s dark outside. Dangerous. Did you know that supposedly there’s wolves in London? Big ones.”

“Oh no,” Liam answers, his chest feeling a bit lighter. He manages a smile.

“And it _could_ get out to The Mail that you’re not a cuddler. Just by chance.” Harry shrugs, giving Liam a look to show he’s joking. 

“Wouldn’t want that.” Liam shakes his head.

He shuffles back onto the bed, still feeling a little awkward. Harry counters that by rolling onto his side, reaching behind for Liam’s arm.

“I’m the little spoon,” Harry states, getting Liam’s arm around him.

He’ll sneak out in the morning, it’s fine. Just wake up a bit early and he’ll be out of there before Harry’s awake enough to realise what they did. 

 

\--

 

There’re rumours. Well, there’re tons of rumours, in a general sense. Like Liam singlehandedly saved an old lady stuck in a tree and that Liam’s secretly the long lost son of David Beckham. But more specifically, there’re ones about him and Harry. Liam knows this, because Louis had sent him links to them all accompanied by approximately fifteen thousand question marks and twenty missed calls to follow. 

Supposedly, their pub meet had resulted in a heated argument by the loos, Harry storming out and Liam leaving not soon after. Sources say that Harry was inconsolable. Thankfully, there’re no pictures. Not a single one. 

“Hello Liam,” Louis answers the phone. He sounds calm, which means that Liam is about to get an absolute bollocking. Just what he wanted on a blue-skied Thursday morning. 

Liam’s half-arsed plan of sneaking out of Harry’s house this morning hadn’t worked when his body clock had failed him, waking him up when the smell of bacon cooking filled the room. So, he’d stayed for breakfast, which Liam’s sure isn’t proper one night stand etiquette; but then he wouldn’t really know. 

He’s not sure if the lingering kiss Harry had given Liam on his way out is part of the No-No list either.

“Hello, Louis,” Liam replies, just as calm. Two can play this game. 

“How are you this morning?” Louis asks.

“Fine. And you?” Liam answers, keeping that same, monotone voice. He’s lucky Louis didn’t actually turn up at his house, because Liam’s starting to sweat. He’s an awful liar. Awful, awful liar. 

“Oh for fucks sake--” Louis cuts off, finally cracking. “Liam, did you check your e-mails at all?”

“Yes,” Liam says. Maybe if he was still drunk this would be easier, but he’s still nursing the ends of his hangover. The part that leaves your head clear but settles deep in your belly. Not even Harry’s fry-up could save him from this. “Can’t believe the things people will make up.” 

Liam plays with the corner of his jumper. It’s his comfiest one. He’d managed to spill bleach all over it a few months ago, but doesn’t have the heart to throw it away. There’s only Loki to judge him when he wears it at home, anyway. 

“All made up, huh?” Louis questions, sounding skeptical. Liam coughs. He can do this, Louis doesn’t need to know everything. It’d take longer to explain it, when it’s never going to happen again. And the teasing; Liam’s tummy is churning way too much to deal with any teasing. “Just bullshit, is it?” 

“Yep,” Liam says. He’s made his bed and now he’s going to lay in it. All day. And not leave. “Told you I went home, early bed time, did some washing.”

Maybe that was too far, Liam doesn’t fully understand what a spin cycle is. 

“Right,” Louis huffs. “Riiiiiiiight.” 

“Just ask Loki, he’ll tell you.” 

Louis makes a strangled sort of noise, and Liam has to pull the phone away from his ear because of how loud it is. 

“If you could see my face, Payno,” Louis almost-growls. After a moment’s pause there’s a scuffle sound, a click and a text pings through. It’s a picture of Louis’ face, looking wholly unimpressed. Zayn’s in the background, sleeping half-on, half-off the sofa. 

Liam texts him back a picture of himself trying to look as awake as possible, with a smile on his face.

“What’s that on your neck?” Louis asks, seconds after it’s gone through. 

Liam freezes, touching his fingers to the spot just under his chin. 

“Uh,” he says, darting out of bed and rushing to his bathroom. It looks like he’s been attacked by a very aggressive hoover. “A bruise? I fell over yesterday.”

“Onto Harry Styles’ mouth? Did he dress you up as a snowflake and sing you Santa Baby?”

“I told you, nothing happened,” Liam says. “Must be allergic to something. I just watched two episodes of MythBusters then went to bed.”

“You’re lucky I like you, Payno,” Louis says.

“You didn’t use to,” Liam replies. He’s not sure why. His brain’s still a bit of a fuzzy mess.

“Don’t bring up the dark times; you’re already walking a very dangerous line,” Louis says. If only he knew that Liam has crossed the line. The line is no longer there because Liam went tripping over it and head first into Harry’s bed. “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet but I gotta go. Prince Malik is waking up, and he demands food of the Dominos variety. Remember to tweet later, music video’s going up at four.”

“Will do, Captain,” Liam answers, and Louis hangs up.

Liam hates lying. Hates lying so much that when he goes to lock his phone his fingers slip on the button because his hands are so clammy. But, it’s just a one-off. A one time thing. Never, ever again.

 

\--

 

Two days later, Liam’s watched the views of his music video steadily increase and received eight thousand tweets, all on various levels of asking him to eat the senders’ face. The video’s pretty simple: him in a tux, surrounded by amber glowing bulbs, with no snowflakes. He’d chosen to do a slowed-down, big orchestral version of This Christmas. There’s a harp and everything.

He’s refreshing the YouTube page when he receives a text. 

Louis is off on the other side of his living room, typing on his Blackberry with his iPhone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. He rattles off some numbers and dates while simultaneously tapping away at his laptop. It’s really something to watch, when Louis is in the zone. 

It’s from an unknown number, the text, and usually that’s never a good sign when Liam has the habit of accidentally tweeting his number to the masses.

_You look good in a suit .xx_

Liam stares down at it. It’s a bit ominous, really. Although he _did_ look pretty good in that suit, he can admit himself. But if it was a fan, there would usually be more capital letters and a thousand facetime calls to follow that. This one might be safe.

_who is thissssssss? x_

He adds enough ‘s’s to make it friendly, hesitates a second before he sends the monkey covering its eyes emoji. Hopefully it isn’t anyone professional, but he doubts they’d be complimenting him on his suit wearing skills if it were. 

_I’ll give you a clue.._

Liam only has to wait a few seconds before a picture comes through. It’s a bit blurry and for some reason cropped and filtered black and white. There’s the edge of what looks like a wing or it could be a drawing of a curtain and the only other thing in the frame is a darker, round patch. Liam squints. Turns his phone upside down and then squints again. 

And then it hits him.

_Harry???_

_Ding ding ding! We have a winner .xx_

_whatwass thaaaaat? the pictureee?_

_Nipple. Not the functioning ones. The display versions .xx_

Liam hopes the fact that he could recognise Harry from just a third or fourth nipple doesn’t make him look weird. It probably does. But Harry tried to stick his fingers in Liam’s nose when he was eating breakfast, so.

_ohhh hahaha. functioning ones? what can they dooo?_

_Think you know the answer to that already, Liam. :) .xx_

And Liam does remember fairly vividly the way Harry had gripped Liam’s shoulders when Liam ran the flat of his tongue over one of them. There’s no chance to text back before another message comes through.

_But, you haven’t seen the light show they put on yet. It’s sick .xx_

Liam snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. It’s then that Liam remembers he’s not the only person in the room and he slowly looks up. There’s Louis, silently watching him.

“Zayn,” Liam says, quickly. He’s not exactly sure where he’s going with this. Louis hasn’t mentioned the curly haired, vibrantly dressed elephant in the room yet. But it’s all a matter of time with him. “He sent me a funny picture. Of a dog. Wearing a nappy.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Louis defends, holding his hands up in some kind of innocent looking way. If Louis keeps looking at him, Liam’s going to crack. He’s going to split down the middle and spilling out will be the truth of him getting on his knees for Harry Styles. 

One of Louis’ twelve phones goes off, saving Liam, and Louis scrambles for it. Liam’s phone vibrates in his hand as well.

_Could give you a private viewing after some drinks. Say, Tuesday? .xx_

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t, but it seems he has no sense of priorities right now. 

It’s Friday today, which gives Liam exactly four days to prepare himself. A two night stand, Liam can do that. Perfectly capable. He’s the master of casual. Captain casual, they call him.

 _Sureee, sounds goooood. :) :) :) x_

Three smilies, so casual. 

“So.” Louis pipes up, off the phone too soon. “Nokias can send picture messages now, can they?” 

Liam looks at a corner of the rug. Unfortunately, the floor doesn’t open up and swallow him whole. But thankfully, Louis’ phone rings again. Liam escapes.

 

\--

 

Pre Nipple Light Show drinks are at some cosy little bar with dim lights and a truly ridiculous amount of cushions everywhere. Harry seems friendly with the staff, which gets them a table in a tucked away corner where no-one can really spot them.

They talk and talk, heads bent towards each other and Harry fiddling with Liam’s fingers laid on the table. Liam’s foot is hooked around Harry’s ankle as they sip at toxic coloured cocktails until there’s the distinct feeling that they’re both slowly edging off their seats and towards the door. 

But the drinks are great and the company’s great and stumbling through Liam’s front door and falling over a dog toy is great. And Harry blowing him until he can’t feel his toes right there in the hallway is even greater.

A two night stand done, Liam totally handled it. King of Casual, Mayor of Casu-town, population: Liam Payne. 

But then it happens again. And again. And again until it’s many nights and sometimes mornings, whenever they’re not doing interviews or photoshoots. Or, on Liam’s side, keeping Louis off the scent by still going round for Homeland marathons. 

Harry’s accidentally leaving scarves and socks in his bedroom. Liam knows the code to the gate outside Harry’s house off by heart. Harry’s driver knows Liam's name and greets him like an old friend when he clambers into the back of Harry’s car.

It’s not just furtive glances over drinks until one of them suggests a house to go to anymore. Liam’s discovered that Harry exists in some topsy-turvy world where-- despite the fact the two of them combined have got the equivalent of the population of Australia watching their every move on Twitter-- he can do what he wants and remain unseen. Which somehow actually works. 

So Liam ends up on four AM missions to McDonald’s because Harry’s craving a McFlurry that bad and Boris biking through South Kensington when it’s absolutely pissing it down. 

Then, there’s one time they’re taking a stroll through a park. While discussing how to make a perfect ham and cheese toastie, they completely forget the time and only just manage to hide inside the tunnel of a climbing frame when the school rush gets out. There’s a good chance that at least half of them have Harry’s face on their bedroom wall. Maybe Liam’s too.

It’s then that Liam meets Paul, Harry’s bodyguard. Who is lovely and Irish and looks like this isn’t the first time he’s saved Harry from a children’s park.

As much as Liam would like to think he’s being the master of secrecy, it isn’t going unnoticed. Louis is looking constantly suspicious, and even Zayn’s started to raise questions now. But Liam still can’t bring himself to tell them. It’s gone too far now. 

It might’ve been easier, if it was leading somewhere that Liam was used to. But Liam has no idea where to start explaining it, can’t really unravel the mess of it in his head. Even though it’s been so easy, so, so easy to just fall into. 

Maybe there had been a reason Zayn had called him a serial monogamist, but it’s probably too late to think about that now.

 

\--

 

“Stooopp,” Liam protests, but it comes out as more of a laugh. They’re barely in the door and Harry’s already kissing the back of his neck, sliding his hands under the front of Liam’s jumper. “You’re freezin’. S’like being attacked by a snowman.”

“I have bad circulation.” Harry flexes his fingers against Liam’s chest and continues walking them down the hall, tucked behind Liam. He knows the layout just as well as Liam by now, doesn’t even need to peek over his shoulder. “It’s just me, Liam, and if you don’t like it you can--”

“Oh shove off.” Liam cuts him off, swivels them around so he can kiss him quiet. Harry grins against his mouth, slides his hands around to Liam’s back so he can pull him closer.

They’d gone to this tucked away bar in Shoreditch, a place that was so Harry from the mismatched furniture to the slightly odd wardrobe concealed entrance into the other half of the bar. It was nice though, serving the most sickeningly sweet cocktails and even now Liam can still taste the remains of The Chai Hard on Harry’s tongue. 

Liam’s trying to chase that taste when they go slamming into the wall, the picture frames shaking.

There’s the creak of floorboards upstairs, a light switching on and, “Liam?”

Liam freezes. Harry’s eyes go wide. The steps grow nearer.

See, Liam’s always thought of himself as someone who would pick fight over flight. But, it turns out, that the moment that he realises that the voice upstairs was definitely Louis’ his brain goes into full blown panic. Which results in him grabbing Harry by the arm and shoving him in the airing cupboard. 

“Oi Payno! That you?” Louis shouts down the stairs, starting to come down them. Liam manages to pull off his coat, kick his shoes off to the side and stumble out of his jeans, chucking them through the nearest open door into another room.

“Louis?” Liam finally calls back, cutting it off with a faked yawn as he shuffles towards the bottom of the stairs. Louis appears; in his coat and shoes, beanie pulled over his hair and with a folder stuffed with papers tucked under his arm.

“Hey. I called out when I came in but I just thought you were sleeping,” Louis says. His car keys are dangling from his finger and Liam doesn’t know why he didn’t notice Louis’ car in the driveway. Actually, it’s probably because Harry was trying to dry hump him against the door. Bit distracting, really. 

“S’f-fine, fell asleep on the sofa.” Liam stutters through a yawn, scratching at his stomach. Is two yawns too many? Would it make it more convincing if he threw another one in? He can’t exactly take the second one back. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Was sorting some promo stuff, just came to grab this.” He waves the folder about and Liam has no idea what it’s filled with and why it’s in his house but he just nods. Sleepily. As sleepy-looking as he can.

“Been looking at some of the numbers as well, you’ve got a good chance at number one. You and that Styles are pretty much neck and neck.”

“Really?” Liam asks. 

“Yeah, but I’ve got some wonderful things planned, Payno. You’ll be topping him in no time.”

“Topping him.” Liam repeats. There’s a quiet snort from the airing cupboard and Liam yawns again, turns it into a vocal scale and then a full blown operatic note. Louis gives him a look.

“Don’t be filthy,” Louis scolds. “Stop thinking about the enemy’s dick.”

“I’m not,” Liam protests. Well, he _wasn’t_ right at that moment. Now he is. Harry had got him pretty riled up and half of him is full of the Tarlogie Tonic he drank earlier and the other half is pure adrenalin, so his own dick isn’t getting the message to settle down for a second. 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Louis retorts. “I’ll be off, some of us can’t sleep all the time and have actual work to do.”

“Yesterday you spent three hours playing The Sims.” Liam points out. Louis, somehow predictably, smacks him with his folder. 

“I was trialing stuff, sending outfit ideas to Zayn for your show next week,” Louis sighs, like it’s obvious. “He particularly liked the dungaree, crop top combo.”

Liam goes for the smack this time and Louis backs away with his hands up, edging towards the door.

“Calm down, grumpy. I’ll let you get back to your beauty rest.” Louis reaches the door, opening it, and Liam feels just the slightest bit less tense knowing that he’s nearly free. “God knows you need it.”

“I could sack you,” Liam retorts.

“But, you won’t.” Louis shrugs, easy as that and takes off outside, the sound of gravel crunching under his feet following him.

“Ring you tomorrow.” Liam calls out of the door, as an afterthought, and Louis lifts a hand in salute before he gets in his car.

There’s a moment of silence as Liam waits for another unarranged visitor to appear out of the darkness of his house. Like Zayn, with a sudden suit fitting. Or a journalist hiding in his piano stool; but the coast seems clear. He rushes over to the airing cupboard and wrenches the door open. 

Harry’s stood under the coat rail, between two of Liam’s jackets. With his hands clamped over his mouth as he presumably tries to keep quiet and become one with Liam’s clothing.

“Shit,” Liam breathes out before he huffs out a laugh and then a high pitched, not quite normal giggle. “That was close, we nearly got caught.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, sounding a little breathless. He moves from his hiding place, stepping out of the cupboard. “Fuck, I’m so hard.”

“ _Harry_.” Liam exclaims. He’s only confused for a second before realisation dawns on him and he gives Harry a look of delighted shock.

“Doooon’t,” Harry whines, covering his face. Even though Liam knows for a fact that he’s not even the slightest bit embarrassed. 

“You find this-- like, sexy. Don’t you?” Liam starts, trying to find the right words for it. “The secrecy, you like it.”

“No,” Harry answers immediately, muffled by his hands. And then after a moment, “Yes.” 

Liam should laugh. This should be hilarious, that just the thought of no-one else knowing gives Harry that reaction. But, for some reason, it’s far, far from it. It turns Liam’s mouth dry and he curls his fingers into a loose fist before unfurling them. 

There’s another sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but Liam’s had that for a while and he’s doing a good job of just ignoring it. 

“Never really thought I’d be someone’s dirty little secret,” Liam says. He takes a step forward as Harry uncovers his face.

“It’s not like that,” Harry protests. “Not _dirty_ \-- Well, I guess it is sometimes. Like really, really dirty. I just-- It’s nice. You and me. No paps stalking us round restaurants, no made up headlines or people interfering. It’s a good change from, like. What I’m used to. I like it.” 

“I get it.” Liam nods, taking another step forward. They’re within touching distance again, and Liam takes the opportunity. Presses the tips of his fingers lightly against the back of Harry’s hand before he intertwines them properly, tugging Harry towards him. “I like it too.” 

Harry grins, the one where the left side of his lips pushes up more. 

“Plus, the sneaking round is pretty hot. Feel like I’m in a movie.” 

Liam doesn’t mention Spy Kids. This is definitely not the time. Instead, with his free hand, Liam cups Harry’s jaw, slides his thumb along Harry’s cheek and presses into the dip of Harry’s dimple. Harry tries to bite him. 

Liam starts humming the James Bond theme tune. Harry rolls his eyes, with what Liam hopes is a hint of fond, before pressing close to Liam.

“C’mon, I had plans for tonight before we got interrupted.” Harry presses a quick kiss to Liam’s lips before stepping past him, their hands still joined.

“And these plans involve the kitchen?” Liam asks, letting himself be pulled along. If he thinks about it, it’s the only room in his house that they haven’t done anything in. Except the time with the cream and the microwave apple strudel. 

“Yep,” Harry answers, looking back to waggle his eyebrows at Liam.

“I _eat_ in there.” 

“And I’m about to do just that,” Harry says simply. Liam groans in half disgust and exasperation and half for the pain of his poor neglected dick. Harry stops, turning around to explain, “flat surfaces, cleaning supplies, snacks for when we need a break. It’s perfect.” 

“Awful,” Liam says, shaking his head. “You’re awful.” 

“You like it, though,” Harry shrugs with a smile. Liam doesn’t get a chance to reply before Harry’s turning back round, slipping his hand out of Liam’s and taking off down the hall. The sound of his laughter follows him as he sheds his coat and scarf and then the rest of his clothes.

Without a moment of hesitation, Liam runs after him, socked feet slipping on the wooden floor. He knows that eventually this will end, that the thrill of what they’re doing will wear off for Harry. It was never meant to be a thing, anyway.

But, for now, there is a naked boy currently taking a running leap at his kitchen table and that’s all that matters.

 

\--

 

It’s in a quiet moment later, when they’re both breathing heavy, laid out on their backs on Liam’s kitchen table, that Harry speaks.

“I’ve always wondered why people think we hate each other,” he says. It’s the first time they’ve ever really mentioned it properly; how it started. 

Liam turns his head, watching Harry carefully. They probably shouldn’t stay on top of this table much longer; it’d given a scary sort of groan earlier when Harry was bent over it. That’s not really the only thing to worry about though, as eating meals will never be the same when there’s the memory of this.

“I never really thought about it,” Liam answers, truthfully. “People will believe what they want even if you tell them otherwise.”

“I know,” Harry agrees. “Never even hated you though. I remember seeing you on X-Factor, watching you audition again even though you’d done it once. I was sure you’d make it far.”

There’s a vague memory of Harry that Liam holds from bootcamp, him running around with a beanie two sizes too big over his hair. It’s a bit of a blur, that whole time. 

“The feeling when they kick you out is the worst, innit?” Harry continues. “It’s like right in front of you and with one word it’s gone and you’re back to school and exams and everything that made you want to audition in the first place.”

Liam nods even though Harry isn’t looking at him. It was pure luck that someone that meant something in the industry had watched the show and snapped Liam up as soon as he could track him down.

“And then I remembered you, how they did it to you _twice_ and you still didn’t give up. Heard you on the radio when I was trying to write my personal statement for Uni, it was your first single. I realised that maybe I shouldn’t have given up so easily.”

It’s a pretty deep conversation to be having when there’re bits out and Liam’s just had his tongue in places that he’d never thought they would go but it still hits Liam, right in the centre of his chest. 

“I never hated you either,” Liam says after a moment, because he never actually has. 

Harry turns his head then and he’s smiling a sweet sort of grin. Liam knows he’s walking a fine, fragile line but in these moments where Harry’s kind and so breathtakingly gorgeous, it’s worth it. 

With perfect timing, the table sways with a horrifying creaking noise. 

“Think your table doesn’t like me, though,” Harry whispers, as though it can hear him. Liam rolls his eyes and pushes Harry off it. The floor’s much safer anyway.

 

\--

 

“This is sick,” Liam beams. Zayn only looks mildly bashful as he smooths down the lapels of Liam’s blazer, trying to get them to lay against Liam’s chest right. 

They’ve got about five hours until they need to be at this Charity event but it’s tradition, on days like these, to go round to Zayn’s and get Liam ready there. There’s always a selection of Zayn’s mum’s best homemade food and it means that for the first part of the morning they can sit around in their underwear playing Super Smash Bros.

Liam glances at the mirror before continuing, “Where’d you get it?”

“This,” Zayn says, tugging the front of it down, “is a Malik original. One of a kind, so don’t ruin it. I’ve made you a bib too, in case you think eating a kebab in a thousand pound jacket is a good idea again.”

“You made this?” Liam says, awed, purposely ignoring the previous comment. Maybe he’s ruined a few suits with spilt food before. 

“Sewed it all with me own fingers and everythin’.” Zayn nods. He knows that Zayn’s designed a few things, but he’s never been given the honour of wearing any of them. No matter how much Liam’s begged. It’s a really stunning blazer, deep red with patterned lining and a pocket square to match.

“Zayn.” Liam grins. 

“It’s my job, Liam.” Zayn says but his cheeks are a little pink. He ruffles up Liam’s unstyled hair. “This is your year, end it with the Christmas number one and you’re set. Just gotta do it in style and I’m the one that makes that happen.”

Over on the sofa Louis starts retching. Zayn rolls his eyes and gently brushes the shoulders of Liam’s jacket with his fingers before moving back to the clothes rail. 

“If The Feelings Corner has ended, I’ve found something interesting,” Louis announces, swiveling his laptop around. 

“Interesting like otters playing with pebbles or interesting like that time you tried to make me watch the video of someone popping the world’s biggest spot,” Zayn says, holding up different ties to Liam’s chest. He frowns at a pink skinny one before chucking it to the side, trying a black bowtie next. Liam hopes he goes for the bowtie, they make him feel fancy. 

“Interesting like Harry Styles out and about in Primrose Hill,” Louis counters. Liam tries not to let his face change but suddenly he’s forgotten what his normal face looks like. He goes for nonchalant, but Zayn’s giving him a weird look. Liam realises why when he catches sight of his face in the mirror and he looks a bit like he’s about to piss himself.

“Is that really interesting?” Zayn asks, slinging the bowtie over his shoulder which Liam has come to know as the maybe pile. He grins and Zayn pokes his cheek. 

“Well, it’s weird because I really, _really_ recognise that jumper,” Louis says, overexagerrating the confusion in his voice. Liam forgets that Louis’ first dream was to be a drama teacher, not a professional adult babysitter, as Louis calls it. 

“Lots of jumpers in the world, Tommo,” Liam comments. 

“That there is, Payno, that there is,” Louis agrees although it’s clearly sarcastic. It would be great if Louis could get straight to the point so Liam could go hide in the toilet for a while. “Not many with a massive bleach stain across the side because _someone_ thought it was fabric conditioner, though. Remember that? How sad you were because it’s your favourite jumper. Refused to bin it, didn’t you?” 

“See, that’s why I made you a bib,” Zayn adds.

Liam finally takes a look at Louis’ laptop screen and there Harry is, smiling down at his phone as he walks down the street. His hair's pulled out of his face, sunglasses hanging from the collar of a jumper that is definitely Liam’s. He doesn’t exactly remember giving Harry his jumper but, then again, he walked to Zayn’s house with one of Harry’s scarves tied around his belt loop.

He tries to stop looking at the picture but Harry looks so lovely, wrapped up in Liam’s clothes. Just knowing that Harry’s parading around in public in something he most probably picked off of Liam’s floor after a night spent together, that he’s hiding in plain sight, is definitely doing something for Liam. In some way, it almost makes him feel like they’re a proper couple, which Liam knows they’re not, he does, but--

Liam looks away, focusing on a spot six inches to the left. 

Zayn, who’s stopped fiddling around with ties and is now watching the whole interaction, has started quietly humming the X-Files theme tune. Liam’s going to go into the toilet and then flush himself down it.

“You’re obsessed.” Liam goes for, snapping out of his daze. “Do you have a Google alert set up or something?” 

“It was in the related section.” Louis shrugs. “From an article about your best tweets of the year. They were all stupid, by the way. Does the world really need to know how much you butt hurts? Keep that to yourself, mate.”

“You’re stupid.” Liam retorts, because he’s five years old.

“Replay, nicer.” Louis shoots back, because he’s five and a half years old.

“Please stop.” Zayn interjects, throwing his arms up in the air. “S’like I’m at home with my sisters, honestly.”

Louis mimes zipping his lips closed and Liam gives Zayn the most innocent look he can. 

Behind Zayn’s back, as he goes back to finding the right tie, Louis mouths ‘ _I’m watching you._ ’ Liam sticks out his tongue. Louis gives him the finger. Liam circles his fingers and starts wanking the air.

Zayn gives them both a stern look and they both look away, pretending nothing happened.

 

\--

 

Much to his joy, Liam does end up wearing a bowtie. It’s velvet. Louis keeps calling him Doctor Who Cares and Liam keeps trying to punch him. 

Liam doesn’t have much left to do at the charity event, the performance of his new single come and gone as it was one of the first. But, they’re seated at tables just behind the standing audience and every so often the camera will pan over to him, and Liam wants to show off Zayn’s blazer as much as possible. 

There’s also the minor fact of Harry sitting two tables away, shirt unbuttoned to his navel and jeans so tight that he wonders how Harry still has a penis that Liam can do stuff to. When, currently, Harry’s probably had to push it inside himself. Or tape it to his leg. Liam’s going to have to get some tips.

Tips. Ha.

“What’re you giggling at?” Louis leans over Zayn to talk to him. Zayn had dedicated himself to the task of being a human barrier, as the last time Louis sat next to Liam at an event he kept pouring vodka in Liam’s champagne. Unfortunately, the event was the Brit awards and Liam’s trip to the post-award winning press pit had been truly something to try and forget. 

“Nothing,” Liam answers, trying to pull himself together. He lifts his glass up, “champagne.” 

“Alright steady on, let’s not have another Brits night.” Louis pulls a face. Obviously, some people don’t forget. 

Liam sets the glass back down and holds up his hands in innocence. It wasn’t even his fault anyway. 

One of the presenters comes out, introducing the next act and the lights around the venue dim, the room filling with the sound of soft strings. Louis and Zayn turn towards the stage to watch and Liam takes his ten-minutely glance over to Harry’s table. 

To his surprise, Harry’s looking right at him. Instead of sinking under the table and melting into the carpet at the embarrassment of being caught, Liam realises that Harry must’ve been looking for him too. It makes the skin around his collar flush.

He smiles instead, ducking his head and looking up at Harry through his lashes. For further effect, he darts his tongue to swipe at the corner of his mouth before biting his lip. 

Harry sends him an unimpressed look, shaking his head although he looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile. Next, he leans over to the person sat beside him, giving Liam one last glance before he pushes out of his chair.

With all the self-restraint imaginable, Liam waits all of thirty seconds before he excuses himself, mumbles something that sounds like ‘need a wee,’ before he’s stumbling out of his chair too. 

The loos aren’t that hard to find, especially when you’re walking past and a hand darts out to tug you inside. 

It’s one of those single room ones; it’s pretty fancy with a waterfall tap sink and a weird looking sculpture and a Harry pushing him against the door.

“Ha--”

“No,” Harry interrupts him, sliding the lock shut. “How very dare you, Liam.” 

“I’m sorry?” Liam offers, not really knowing what he’s apologising for. But Harry’s there and his shirt’s gaping open, there’s the hint of a mark on his chest that Liam left the other night and his lips are pearly shade of pink.

Liam just really wants to kiss him. 

“Should be.” Harry scowls, although it lasts for five seconds before his eyes flick down, his smile turning into something filthier. He goes quiet, flattens his palms against Liam’s chest and smooths out the front of his suit blazer, sliding his hands back up so they rest on Liam’s shoulders. 

It makes Liam forget, for a moment, that they’re standing in a public toilet. 

“You’re so fit,” Harry says, voice barely above a whisper, sounding like it’s physically paining him. “Looked so good on stage, your voice is amazing. Did you know you hold a mic stand like you’re about to lay it down and show it a good time?” 

“I do?” Liam says, voice catching as Harry moves his hand to the base of his neck, presses his thumb against Liam’s birthmark. 

“You like--” Harry pauses, slides his hands down the length of Liam’s body until they reach his waist. “You do that, it’s horrible to watch.”

“Huh,” Liam offers, helpfully. He’s trying not to smile, he really is, but for some reason at the moment he’s having a lot of trouble controlling his face. 

Harry narrows his eyes, slapping his chest. “You do it on purpose!”

“Like you can talk,” Liam scoffs. “Could see your nipples from space.”

“Oh, these little things.” Harry says, voice a higher, softer pitch as he uses his arms to push his cleavage together. He even pouts. 

It’s a constant thing with Harry, being caught between complete and utter fond and wanting to hit him upside the head. For now, Liam buries his face in Harry’s shoulder to muffle his laughter.

“Is this why you dragged me into a bathroom? To have a go at me?” Liam asks, nose pressed to Harry’s throat. 

“Yes,” Harry nods and his hair tickles the side of Liam’s head. “And to kiss you.”

Liam pulls back to look at his face, giving him an ‘ _oh yeah_?’ kind of look. Harry pulls a face.

“Just a kiss?” Liam asks, even though he’d be quite happy with a nice little cuddle on the tiled floor of this public toilet. It’s probably not very sanitary though, they’d have to lay their coats on the floor first as a barrier. 

“If I’m not enough, Liam, I can just go back to my seat,” Harry huffs and Liam enjoys his put out face a little too much. Loves giving the boy who gets pretty much everything he wants something to work for. It just so happens that he gets a reward out of it too. 

Harry seems to change his mind and carries on, “Just a kiss, I’ll show you just a kiss.” 

He drops to his knees. Liam blinks, blinks again and then tries to not let his knees give way as well. 

Harry goes straight for Liam’s belt, undoing it and flinging it across the room. It’s completely unnecessary, but Harry has a thing for dramatic flair. He might’ve caught a glimpse at Harry’s YouTube search history one day and seen ‘ _awesome magic tricks_.’ That could have something to do with it. 

Liam’s button is next, then his fly and then Harry’s tugging his trousers down. 

There’s next to no warning before Harry noses at the front of Liam’s boxers, mouths along the line where his dick’s perking up with interest. It might be pathetic, how little it takes for Harry to get Liam hard, but then again it really does speed things up. Liam loves efficiency. 

He pulls Liam’s boxers off slowly, lets them drag against his skin as Liam arches up into it, bites his lip to stop any noise coming out. He’s still very much aware of the fact that they’re not exactly in the most private, soundproof place. 

"Harry wait, wait, wait.” Liam tightens his grip on Harry’s shoulders, keeping him in place. It’s hard, when Harry’s got his own grip on Liam’s dick and his mouth is inches away from it, boxers pushed down to Liam’s thighs now. “Are you sure we should-- I mean, what if we get caught?"

He knows there’s not much of a possibility, seeing as they’ve locked themselves in. But-- still. It’s the most public thing they’ve done and although it’s making Liam lose his mind a bit, it’s also a really stupid idea. Maybe he should’ve thought about that before Harry dropped to his knees though. 

"Just-- act innocent,” Harry suggest. He pulls a confused face, brows furrowed as he stares at Liam’s dick. "Oh wait, this _isn't_ a microphone?"

“Oh my god.” Liam groans, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. “I can’t believe you.”

“Hey, hey. Don’t insult the guy with your penis in his hand.” Harry bares his teeth, makes a quick biting motion would shouldn’t be so endearing considering the implications. Liam’s so, so gone. 

“Sorry,” Liam apologises, mimes sealing his lips. “Mum’s the word.” 

“Don’t talk about my mum either.” Harry gives him an appalled look before he seems to realise that he’s still holding Liam’s dick in his hand. 

Liam’s fully hard now, reddened at the tip where Harry runs his thumb over, smearing the precome beading out of Liam’s slit. Harry takes his hand away for a moment, pushes his wet thumb against his bottom lip, his tongue darting out to steal a taste. He’s watching Liam through his lashes the whole bloody time and it’s taking all of Liam’s willpower not to cry. That’s not sexy, at all.

Harry might be smirking. If Liam could focus his brain for just one second he’d be able to tell but that’s definitely not going to happen.

“Harry, please,” Liam says, tries to make it sound more like he’s worried about how little time they have, that someone will notice they’re gone, and not that he’s about to accidentally come all over Harry’s face. That’s another visual he doesn’t need right now, to be honest. 

Harry gives up teasing, flattens his tongue over Liam’s head before he takes him in, doesn’t stop until the tip of his nose is brushing the hair above Liam’s cock. With his free hand that’s not wrapped around the base of Liam’s cock, he spreads his fingers across Liam’s stomach, keeping him pressed against the door.

Liam wants to buck up and tug at Harry’s hair and whisper quiet encouragements, but it’s the fact he can’t make too much noise that makes it nearly unbearable. Harry’s so good, is the thing. Has learnt exactly just the way to have Liam cursing and tensing as he bobs his head, hand moving in time.

Harry pulls off with a pop. An actual pop sound, and Liam groans. Because one day he’ll hear that noise in a normal situation and all he’ll be able to think about is Harry on his knees for him, flushed face and curls stuck to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

“You close?” Harry says, voice croaky. He was, though not close enough that he couldn’t hold it off for a moment. It’s Harry voice that pushes him an inch further towards the crumbling edge of a familiar cliff. 

Liam nods, eyes shut tight.

Harry takes that as a sign to go for it, sucking at Liam until the sound Liam makes is pulled out right from the back of his throat. He doesn’t stop until Liam’s gasping, coming down Harry’s throat, pressing his knuckles against his closed lips to try and muffle some of the sounds. 

“So,” Harry says, sitting back on his haunches. His mouth’s glistening and his hair’s a wreck and there’s a touch of damp under his eyes. “Better than just a kiss?”

In response, Liam grabs the front of Harry’s shirt in his hand and hauls him up, crushing their mouths together. It gets exactly the reaction Liam wants, a moan and Harry letting his jaw go slack to allow Liam to lick into his mouth. He’s not entirely anticipating the way Harry presses his full weight onto him, it’s hard to hold him up when his legs still feel like jelly.

He knows they should have gone back to their seats a long time ago but Liam is never one to pass up an opportunity to return a favour. Even if it’s just haphazardly getting Harry’s jeans undone with one hand and then shoving that hand in there, wanking Harry off as quick as he can with Harry panting against his neck. 

“Liam,” Harry gasps, “Liam, Liam, Liam.” 

He knows Harry’s just on the edge, can tell by the way his breath hitches on every second intake. Liam cups his other hand over the head of Harry’s dick, hoping that most of it goes there and not on Liam’s trousers. There is no way he’s going to be able to explain that.

“Fuck, gunna co--”

There’s a knock at the door, “Harry, you in here?”

Harry comes, biting down so hard on Liam’s shoulder that there is definitely the chance of being able to decipher Harry’s whole dental hygiene past from the indent. Some of it goes on Liam’s hand, the rest goes on the tiled floor and the toe of Liam’s shoe. Which isn’t great. They’re suede. 

“Harry?” A shout comes through the door again. Liam recognises the voice, the accent specifically. It’s Niall, part of Harry’s team. He’d maybe had to hide under Harry’s bed for almost an hour when Niall unexpectedly came over, listening to a full blown bickerfest about whether Irish sausage was actually the best sausage in the world. 

It was worth it, though. When Niall had left, Harry had dragged him out by his feet and then fucked him right there on the hardwood floor. 

Harry manages to get his breathing back to a state where it doesn’t sound like he’s just ran a marathon and he clears his throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” Harry calls out. “Just-- bad stomach, think it was the salmon. I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Alright,” Niall yells back, his voice literally right behind Liam’s head with just the few inches of wooden door between them. “Hurry up, you’re on soon. Just don’t stink the place out.”

Liam pulls a disgusted face and Harry covers his own with his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. Once the coast seems clear, Liam manages a laugh, and then another until he’s bent in half trying to smother it with his arm. 

Liam’s trousers are still down, Harry’s dick is still hanging out, soft and limp and there’s his come on Liam’s shoe.

And they’re at a charity event. 

“Oh my god,” Harry breathes, still fighting back a wave of giggles as he wipes at his eyes. “I need to go, shit. I need to--”

He flails about for a second, tucking himself back in and trying to get everything back in order and his hair looking less like he’s just been through a wind tunnel. He’s smiling as he kisses Liam once, twice before he slips out of the room, leaving Liam to try and find his discarded belt and the last scraps of his dignity.

 

\--

 

Liam gets back to the table just as Harry’s performance nears the end. He would’ve left sooner, but it’d taken longer than expected for the flush on his neck to finally disappear enough for him to not look like he’s had a violent allergic reaction to the mini spicy fish cakes he scoffed earlier. 

“You fall in the loo or somethin’?” Louis asks as soon as he sits down. 

“There was a queue,” Liam says, hoping he doesn’t look as disheveled as he feels. “A really long queue.” 

“I see,” Louis says and Zayn coughs although it sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Was Harry in that queue too?”

“I don’t know. Maybe?” Liam shrugs. 

“He was nearly late to get on stage, had to practically sprint through the arena. It was a sight.”

“Ha.” Liam laughs. And then realises that it sounds like he’s reading off a script. Frantically, he tries to think of something genuinely funny. Babies with moustaches. There we go. 

Louis seems placated enough for Liam to stop the hysterical giggle he’s got going on and finally look up at the stage. Harry’s shirt is half tucked in, half dangling free and if Liam looks hard enough he can see how the corner of his mouth is a little red and part of his chin from where Liam’s stubble had rubbed against him. 

Quietly, so as not to draw attention, Liam grabs his napkin off the table and drapes it over his lap. 

 

\--

 

“Zayn!” Liam stops mid-conversation, watching as Zayn furrows his brow in confusion and turns round to glance towards the voice. It takes a second, but then Zayn’s beaming, taking a step away.

“Niall! Long time no see,” Zayn greets as Niall becomes visible amongst the crowd, a head of bleach blonde hair and a blinding grin. 

Liam’s seen Niall vaguely amongst the crowd but never actually this close. It’s a bit weird, to see someone who maybe just heard you wanking his mate off in the loo.

“I know, man. Too long,” Niall answers, wrapping Zayn up in one of the most heartfelt hugs Liam has ever seen. Louis shoots him a puzzled look and Liam shrugs.

They pull away from each other and Niall pats Zayn a few times on the shoulder before he turns to Liam, still grinning from ear to ear.

“So, this is your boss,” Niall continues, talking to Zayn but nodding his head at Liam.

“Oh, it’s not really like that,” Liam starts, although it technically is. “I’m Liam--”

“None of that, none of that.” Niall shakes his head, batting the hand Liam extends towards him away. Instead, he hugs Liam. It’s one of the best hugs Liam has ever had. “‘Course I know who you are, gotta keep an eye on the competition, right?”

Liam tries to reply but it turns out that his brain just wants him to attempt to do his best impression of a goldfish. 

“Just kidding, love your stuff, man,” Niall says. It’s not hard to tell that it’s completely genuine. Maybe Niall has a different view of this rivalry than Louis does. “Insane set of lungs you have on you there.”

“They’re alright,” Liam says after a pause accompanied by a shy shrug. He’s a bit baffled. It’s something to ponder on, whether Harry’s whole team is just full of incredibly charismatic people. It’s been a few minutes and Liam already wants Niall to be his best friend. 

Niall pats him on the shoulder before he catches sight of Louis on the sidelines.

“Louis Tomlinson. The man, the myth, the legend,” he exclaims and Liam has never seen Louis pull that face before, but he wishes he had his phone out to save this memory forever. “I’m a big fan of your work.”

“My… Work?” Louis questions.

“Get a lot of stuff done, you do. Very efficient, like it.” Niall nods. “Seen your song-writing credits too, really impressive.”

And Liam remembers now, Harry explaining that Niall is his-- Well, Niall is like Harry’s Louis. Professional adult babysitter. King of spreadsheets and golf. Also, Niall can’t burp. Harry does talk a lot and Liam does mostly listen. 

“Right,” Louis says, his lips gone thin like he’s trying to eat his own mouth. In fact, Liam wishes he could video this. Louis looks undeniably pleased but also like he wants to run into a wall. “Thanks?” 

“It’s alright, I was actually wonder--”

“Hey, Niall. Lost you there.” Harry appears out of thin air, shirt still not tucked in properly and the corner of his mouth still red. It takes him a minute to realise what he’s just walked into and he stills with his hand just above Niall’s shoulder.

“Would’ve found you eventually.” Niall shrugs and Harry’s hand drops. Liam has decided that looking at a plant halfway across the room is the safest thing to do right now. “Just catching up with an old friend and meeting a Great.”

Louis might be blushing. Liam can’t stop looking at the plant long enough to tell. Zayn is coughing again.

“Paul’s just told me the car’s outside, so,” Harry trails off. He glances over to Liam then and Liam loses count of how many leaves there are on the plant. 

“Well, best be off then. I’ll text you, Zayn. We need a catch up,” Niall says. Zayn nods as Niall pulls him into a hug. It’s a surprise, when he then pulls Louis into a hug. Followed by Liam. “Nice to meet you two.” 

“Yes,” Liam says coherently. Louis nods. Harry offers a small wave to the general area they’re standing in before they both disappear into the crowd.

“He was nice,” Louis says after a moment of silence and Liam bites his lips, willing himself to not look at Zayn because then he’ll break. Liam knows that Louis’s not talking about Harry but that’s probably the strange part. “How’d you know him?” 

“Niall? He was a runner on X Factor when I was interning with Caroline, met through some friends,” Zayn shrugs. “Great guy.”

“Mhm,” Louis answers, squinting at a far off place. If Liam bites his lip any harder he’s not going to have any lip left. It’s unbelievable that Louis isn’t screaming to the high heavens about fraternising with the enemy. 

“Shouldn’t we, maybe, see if our car is here too?” Liam asks, after Louis hasn’t said anything for a full minute.

“Oh-- yeah, yes.” Louis seems to shake himself out of it, reaching inside his suit jacket to grab his phone. 

Louis leads the way out and Zayn has to physically cover Liam’s mouth to stop him laughing, which would result in him getting both of them kicked out of a moving vehicle so it’s definitely for the best. 

 

\--

 

It’s inevitable that after months and months of gigs and promo and photoshoots where he has to look fresh and perky at seven in the morning when he’s had five hours of sleep in the past week, that the first whole day he gets off he crashes. Not, like, falls asleep. His whole body just crashes.

It happens every time. Liam’s body fights it off for as long as he can and then one dreary morning he wakes up with his sinuses so swollen that it feels like his skull has been shrunk in the wash. 

With the last of his energy, he makes it down to his living room, wrapped up in his duvet with Loki trailing after the tail end of it. 

It’s unfortunate that he’s going to die on his sofa, covered in snot and sweat as he watches reruns of The Only Way is Essex. On screen, Gemma’s pissed at Arg again, or for the first time. Liam hasn’t really been watching, he’s been trying to get into a position which doesn’t make his head spin.

And just so everyone knows how much he’s suffering, he tweeted several lines of thumbs down emojis. Louis had tweeted it back, telling him to suck it up and then, a few minutes later, texted him to ask if he needed a trip to the doctor’s. Unless Louis is going to carry him to the doctor’s, it’s not going to happen. 

Just as he texts Louis back, there’s a knock at his door. Liam stills. Maybe, if he stays quiet enough, whoever it is will go away. Then no-one will have to see Liam in a Zombie state.  
Except, Loki suddenly perks up, rushing towards the door and barking. The person knocks again. Liam groans. They knock two more times and Liam rolls off the sofa, duvet and all, ready for his crawl to the door. 

It’s easier than the trip he took downstairs but then he also has to take a moment to unscramble his brain when he gets to the door. If it’s not Drake or Jay-Z, there is no way it was worth it. If it’s Louis, he’s going to cough on his face.

Surprisingly, it’s Harry. He hadn’t prepared himself for this and his first reaction is to try and shut the door.

“Heyyyy,” Harry says, stopping it with his foot. “Is this how you greet everyone that brings you soup?”

“Not everyone brings me soup.” Liam frowns. Then, “you brought me soup?” 

“Yes. Well, the ingredients.” Harry holds up a Waitrose bag. Typical. 

“I’m confused,” Liam says. Also very, very sick. And sweaty and red-faced. A sight for sore eyes.

Harry is looking particularly annoyingly gorgeous this afternoon, hair soft and a well-worn hoodie under his coat. Liam doesn’t know whether it’s the amount of max-strength Lemsip he’d consumed between episode one and two of his The Only Way is Essex marathon but he’s feeling a little bit lightheaded. 

“I saw your tweets,” Harry explains, starting to push Liam back in the house so he can step in. Loki’s running circles around them and Liam needs to go back to his sofa cave. “Was in the area so thought I’d make sure you weren’t dead.”

“And the results?” Liam wraps his duvet tighter around him, starting to walk towards the living room now that Harry’s toed his boots off. 

“Inconclusive,” Harry answers, following him down the hallway. “Going to have to run some more extensive tests.”

“I hope you know that doesn’t sound sexy at all.” Liam tries for a laugh but it hurts his brain. “I’m literally one big ball of bogey.”

“Maybe I’m into that.” 

“Please get out of my house and let me die peacefully.” Liam whines, flopping down on his sofa and burrowing under the duvet. Loki jumps on top, patting his head with a paw before sitting on top of it.

“Nope, you’re getting the full Styles care package,” Harry’s voice comes from somewhere faraway in the land outside Liam’s duvet cave. “Just have a rest and I’ll be back with some of Nana Styles’ homemade soup.”

“Is it really your Nan’s?” Liam pokes his head out of the cover and Loki whines as he’s jostled to the side.

“If my Nan is Jamie Oliver, then yes.” 

Liam snorts a laugh and Harry sticks his tongue out before taking himself and his bag of ingredients to the kitchen.

 

\--

 

It’s getting dark outside when Liam’s phone starts vibrating across the table. Liam didn’t realise soup took so long to make but, then again, he’s only ever made it out of a tin. And then he put that tin in a microwave and started a fire. 

“Hello?” Liam answers the phone.

“Liam. Liam, Liam, Liam. Payno!” Louis chants down the phone. He’s using that voice, the one where he sounds like he’s starring in an animation movie as the lead chipmunk. “You didn’t text me back.”

“Oh sorry, I dozed off,” Liam answers. He hasn’t, he’s been listening to Harry sing MoTown hits in the kitchen. It’s something he could possibly get used to, which he shouldn’t.

“So, you don’t need a trip to the hospital?” Louis asks. It’s really loud where he is and Liam has to hold the phone away from his ear. 

“Hospital? S’just a cold, Lou. I’m fine,” Liam says. “Can barely walk anywhere though, so unless you’re going to carry me.”

“I could carry ya,” Louis replies instantly. “Or we could like-- get a dog. A really big dog. Clifford the Big Red Dog.”

“Jesus, Tommo,” Liam says, fighting off a yawn. “How high are you?”

“Five foot ten.” Louis pauses. “Okay, five foot nine. I’m not going any lower.”

“What?” Liam’s head hurts too much for this conversation.

“Joking, joking. Don’t have a paddy. Ha. Paddy. Like, you know. Your body guard,” Louis laughs for a few seconds. “I’ve just had a few drinks. Few pints.”

There’s a cackle in the background. A laugh that actually sounds like the way it’s spelt, that’s so, so familiar to Liam but he can’t quite--

“Is that Niall Horan with you?”

“Miles who? What?” Louis’ shouting down the phone now and Liam has to hold it even further away from his ear. “‘M just at the pub. I’m allowed days off too Liam, God.” 

“I know,” Liam says, feeling a bit bad then knowing that this is as much Louis’ day off as it is his. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah, calm down kiddo,” Louis chides, but his voice is gentler this time. “Just wanted to check you’re okay, text me if you need anything.” 

“Will do,” Liam says, holding back the cough that’s at the back of his throat. 

Louis hangs up after a second and Liam shuts his eyes, too tired to deal with Louis suddenly becoming best mates with Niall. Instead, he listens to Harry completely mess up the lyrics of My Girl. 

 

\--

 

He doesn’t remember dozing off. Must have been somewhere between Harry transitioning The Marvelettes into The Supremes and trying to get Loki to stop stuffing his tail up Liam’s nose. But he’s woken up by fingers on his cheek and Harry whispering his name.

“Mmmm.” Liam says, cracking an eye open. 

“Took longer than expected but soup’s done,” Harry says from where he’s perched on the side of the sofa, in the gap next to Liam’s stomach and where his legs curl round. “And I’ll replace your blender, I promise.”

“Didn’t even know I had a blender, to be honest.” Liam shrugs, as much as he can from lying down on his side. 

Liam pushes himself up, sitting up with the arm rest behind his back as Harry takes the tray off the coffee table and sets it on Liam’s lap. It’s a giant bowl of soup, pepper sprinkled on top in what Harry assumes was meant to be a smiley face but it’s been moved about a bit too much, now resembling a black speckled blob. There’s two slices of bread, toasted and buttered and there’s a moment where Liam thinks he might cry. Just a little. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Liam says instead. “You’ll get poorly too.”

“Liam, be quiet,” Harry says, giving him a stern look. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to.”

“I know, but.” Liam continues, still staring down at the deformed smiley face. “You don’t have to stay. I can’t really-- you know. Do anything.”

“I actually quite enjoy your company, Liam Payne,” Harry sighs, sounding a little peeved. “If you couldn’t tell, by me following you everywhere for the past month.”

Liam blinks, slowly. A month. It’s been a _month_. 

“C’mon, eat up. Didn’t break your blender for nothing.” Harry pats his knee.

“Can’t promise I’ll finish it. I tried eating a Kinder Bueno earlier and it didn’t agree with me.” 

"Hmmm.” Harry purses his lips, tapping them with his finger. “Let nurse Harry have a look."

Harry glances round, before picking up Liam’s headphones. He puts them around his neck, holding one of the ears up to his and taking the end of the wire in his hand. Making a face of intense thought, Harry presses the jack of the headphones against Liam’s chest, in one place and then further up, pretending to listen through the ear.

"It's bad news.” Harry frowns, pulling the headphones off. Liam’s slightly stunned at what’s going on. “You've got a case of the sniffles." 

"How long do I have left, Doc?" Liam says, going for dramatic. 

“Longer, if you eat the soup.” 

Liam refrains from making any kind of mum joke, because that is not something you say to someone who's had your cock in their arse. It’s just proper manners.

From the small part of Liam’s mouth which has any sense of taste left, he can tell Harry actually knows what he’s doing. Which isn’t much of a surprise, after all the breakfasts he’s had cooked for him. 

Harry’s getting settled on the other side of the sofa, sitting back against the armrest and bringing his legs up to lie next to Liam, tucking his feet under Liam’s armpit. He jostles the soup a little, the smiley face completely disappearing. 

"Did you know I used to want to be a nurse?" Harry says, just as another episode starts on telly.

"Really?" Liam asks, surprised, and Harry cracks a grin. 

"Nah. Can’t stand the sight of blood,” he says pulling a face. “Just watched a lot of Holby City, have an outfit and everything.” Harry pauses. "Don't think it's hospital standard though, doesn't exactly cover my arse." 

There is a flash of a mental image where Harry is holding a clipboard and he’s just dropped his pen with a startled face and he’s wearing a shoddy latex version of a nurses outfit and he’s bending over and--

Liam groans and then groans again because groaning hurts his head. 

“So, fancy a movie?” Harry continues, unphased. Like he didn’t just cause Liam the worst headrush of his life. 

Harry puts on Finding Nemo and Liam tries very hard to remember how to use a spoon.

 

\--

 

Liam remembers falling asleep this time, just after Dory finds her squishy. It’s completely dark when he wakes up, blinking past the blur of the ends of a dream to find Harry pulling on his coat.

“Sorry,” Harry winces, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” Liam says through a yawn, stretching his arms above his head and attempting to sit up a little. 

“Thought I’d let you get some rest,” Harry says, even though Liam’s literally spent the whole day sleeping. “Also have to go pick up Niall, did you know he’s out with Louis?”

“Kinda,” Liam shrugs, vaguely remembering the conversation from earlier. 

“Got two scandals on our hands here now,” Harry jokes and Liam huffs out a quiet laugh. “You need anything before I go?”

“I’ll be fine, just have to sleep it off I think,” Liam reassures. Harry crosses the room towards him. 

“Alright, well there’s some soup left. Just need to heat it up. Or eat it cold if you’re into that.” 

Harry pushes back Liam’s fringe from his forehead, touching his skin with the back of his hand like he’s checking his temperature and it’s that exact moment that Liam decides that this needs to stop. It might be because he’s poorly, that it hurts that much more to be on this side of intimate, but he doesn’t want to wait until he’s well enough to realise the exact same thing.

It’s just that after today, with Harry wandering round his house like it was home and looking after Liam like what they are to each other is more than it actually is, it was too much. Having a glance at what it could be-- if they were a proper couple-- has made Liam realise that he needs to end it and it’s probably only the cough medicine that’s given him the balls to do it. 

It’s only fair for the both of them.

Harry leans down and Liam leans back, “You shouldn’t kiss me.”

“Don’t think we’ve been keeping to rules lately,” Harry says, he doesn’t look upset just a bit confused.

“True but,” Liam starts, searching for a reason. He can’t have Harry kiss him, he doesn’t want a last kiss to remember. It would just make it worse. “S’nearly Christmas, don’t want you to be ill.”

Harry looks at him, the one that Liam always doesn’t quite understand. 

“You always do that,” Liam blurts out. He shouldn’t be carrying this on when he’s carried it on for too long already. 

“What?”

“That face, like.” Liam tries to imitate it. It’s probably awful because Harry starts laughing. It’s good, to keep Harry unaware of what he’s doing because he might make him change his mind. Although there is a small part of him that wants Harry to do just that. “Always look at me like that, never understood it.”

Harry pauses, searching Liam’s face like he’s trying to figure out whether Liam’s joking. After a moment, he smiles gently and runs the back of his fingers across Liam’s cheek. He says, “It’s because you’re you, Liam. You’re just you and you’re not ashamed to be you and I really like that. That’s what that face is for.” 

Liam’s heart stutters over a beat. He shouldn’t have asked. He’s not being _him_ , not entirely. This casual thing isn’t him. 

“Oh,” Liam says instead. 

“I’ll see you soon?” Harry questions; he doesn’t try to kiss Liam goodbye again. “Text me when you’re feeling better, yeah?” 

The results for the Christmas number one come out soon and the press will get bored of their made up rivalry when there’s nothing to fuel the fire and Harry will get bored of him. It’s just how it goes. 

“Sure,” Liam manages to say with a lump in the bottom of his throat. Thankfully, Harry’s gone before he can realise Liam doesn’t actually mean it. 

It’s the right thing to do, Liam tells himself as he stares at the blank TV until his eyes start to water. He’s stopped it before it got out of hand, before he fell properly. It’ll hurt less this way.

Although, if Liam lets himself think about it properly, it was less like he was standing on the edge and more likely that he’d taken the leap ages ago. 

 

\--

 

Liam isn’t wallowing in self pity. At all.

Just, first, he has to get rid of his terrible cold. Which means, days camped in front of the telly consuming nothing but cough medicine and Haribo. 

And then when that’s all done with, he has to marathon the entire Rom-Com category on Netflix, accompanied with a family sized tub of Mint Choc Chip ice-cream. 

But then, after the third film starring Hugh Grant as the befuddled British guy, Liam is overtaken by a strange, ice-cream induced urge. It’s a scary moment, when YouTube loads and he types _Harry Styles funny moments_ into the search bar. He makes it all of thirty seconds into the first video which, for some reason, has Liam’s own first single as the background music before he has to shut his laptop, pushing it as far away as possible to stop him setting it on fire.

It’s bad enough that Liam has to see him on telly, hear him on the radio and see his stupid, beautiful face everytime he opens any kind of social media. But, it’s even worse that Harry didn’t just disappear into thin air that day, that he’s continued texting him. Invites to dinner and drinks and a picture of his sunglasses floating in a toilet bowl, asking Liam if it’s alright to still wear them.

But after a while of Liam not replying, Harry stops trying. Which is maybe worse.

It takes exactly a week for Louis and Zayn to realise he’s not spending time with Andy or his family as he’d said, but that he’s actually become one with his sofa, which is where they find him, just when Hugh Grant is dancing around number ten Downing street to a Girls Aloud hit. 

“I thought you said you weren’t ill anymore.” Is the first thing Zayn says, sitting down next to Liam on his nest of bedding.

“‘M not.” Liam shrugs, trying to burrow himself deeper in his duvet. Maybe, if they can’t see him, they’ll leave. 

“You sure? You don’t look so great,” Zayn continues, touching the back of his hand to the small part of Liam’s face that is showing. 

“Thanks,” Liam deadpans and then, “I’m fine.”

“Clearly.” Louis looks pointedly around the room, at the dirty plates and the empty takeaway boxes. Liam’s never dealt well with break-ups-- not that this was a break-up, because they were never together. 

Louis shoves a few things to the side to unearth Liam’s laptop. He opens it, and of course Liam had never exited the YouTube page and suddenly Harry’s laughing face is playing full screen. Zayn looks at him and Louis looks at him and Liam tries his hardest to sprout wings so he can fly away. 

“Oh, Liam,” Louis says quietly. Liam has only heard that tone a few times in his life.

“Don’t," Liam says.

“I’m guessing it’s over, then?” Louis continues, sitting on the other side of Liam. He’s shut the laptop, thankfully, but Liam still feels very close to crying. 

“You knew?” Liam asks, although it’s pretty obvious they do.

“Know I’m not the brightest bulb in the box, but I’m not that thick.” Louis taps his fist against Liam’s shoulder. “You’re a rubbish liar, just thought you’d tell me sooner or later.”

Liam glances at Zayn.

“You don’t think I didn’t notice you suddenly gaining a new interest in YSL scarves, did you?” Zayn says, as gentle as he usually is when he’s teasing Liam. 

Liam laughs, almost genuine, more self-deprecating and ducks his head. 

“I warned you, Liam. What he’s like.” Louis sighs.

“Louis, stop it. This isn’t the time.” Zayn leans past Liam to give Louis a stern look.

“He wasn’t, though,” Liam starts, curling more in on himself. “I mean, like. Yeah we were just-- It was just, you know. Fun. Mostly. And it _was_ fun but he was really great and nice and-- it just, meant more to me than it did him. It wasn’t his fault.”

“So, I don’t have to kill him?” Louis asks after a moment of silence.

“Please don’t,” Liam answers, muffled by the duvet still wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

“It’s a shame,” Louis says. “Zayn had a plan and everything.”

Zayn nods, “was gonna feed him to Arnie.” 

Liam snorts and smiles in a way that feels a little more normal. Zayn slings his arm around Liam’s shoulder and pulls him closer. 

“How about you go get showered; Zayn’ll get you dressed. Then we can go get smashed and go forget about--” Louis looks at Zayn, confusion on his face. “Shit, what’s his name?”

“Uhhhh,” Zayn says, putting on his best confused voice as well. “Henry? Barry?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Louis nods and Liam’s smiling properly now, trying to bury his face in Zayn’s shoulder to hide it. 

On screen, someone’s just jumped in a freezing cold lake. Next to him, Louis and Zayn are fighting over a slice of day old pizza and maybe everything will be alright. 

 

\--

 

Mambo No.5 ends up winning Christmas number one.

It’s the internet, of course it is. Some hashtag and keyboard revolution against something or something, Liam doesn’t really know. He hasn't trusted most of the internet since that fake nude photo scandal during the summer. The audacity of it all, to be honest, like Liam would ever wear a snapback in bed. He is a man of class, if anything.

But Liam ends up in second place, Harry a close third which almost feels worse than just losing completely. He does a bunch of interviews of how he's _technically_ number one, questions about Liam’s thoughts on social media-- when Louis’ is the one that sorts out his twitter most of the time-- and Liam has to pretend like one of his favourite 90’s party hits hasn’t been ruined for him.

It’s not the greatest week. 

 

\--

 

Despite the embarrassment of it all, and having to hear about having a little bit of Monica in his life too many times, Liam manages to brave the world for a pre-new years party. He’s not sure who’s hosting it, someone high up in the label that Louis insisted it would be a good idea to please. But even Zayn promises to come with him, who he hasn’t seen since he left London to spend Christmas with his family, so he can’t miss the opportunity. 

Liam’s only been there for twenty minutes, and he’s spent most of it fighting through the crowd at the bar to get a drink. He’s finally slipping his way out of the throng when he spots him across the room.

It’s not like much has changed over a couple of weeks. His hair’s just as long, half of it tied into a bun at the back of his head. He’s wearing just as many rings as usual, torn jeans like a second skin. And, he’s wearing Liam’s jumper. The one with the bleach stain across the side. He’d forgotten Harry still had that, not like he really gave Harry a chance to return it.

He liked that about Harry. That he had all these small parts of people he cared about with him at all times. His tattoos and clothes and the long, sometimes pointless stories he told. Right now, though, it feels like a bit of a punch to the gut.

For some reason, Liam’s feet are not listening to him. They’re not getting the signal that his brain is frantically sending to run for the bloody hills, maybe down his Jack and coke on the way. He’s frozen. 

Which is why, when Harry looks up for a moment, scanning the room, his eyes settle directly on Liam. It reminds Liam straight away, of the moment in the pub that feels like forever ago. Harry had looked a lot happier back then, though. 

Liam doesn’t need to sprout wings this time, he needs a time machine. And maybe another drink.

His feet still don’t get the message. Harry’s coming closer and Liam realises at the last minute it’s because Harry is the one moving.

“Hey,” Harry greets. He’s smiling, but it’s not anything that Liam recognises. It doesn’t sit well on Harry’s face or in the pit of Liam’s stomach.

“Hi,” Liam says, trying to keep his grip on his drink. It gets harder when his palms start sweating. 

“Congrats on the single,” Harry says, kindly.

“You too.” Liam coughs, something stuck in his throat. His words, maybe. “Fuck Lou Bega, though.”

Harry laughs and then stops, like he didn’t mean to. Liam feels awful. This is awful. He imagines, in a world where he wasn’t such a massive knob, that they’d be fumbling about in the loo right now. That sounds a lot better than this. 

“How’ve you been?” Liam asks, after a lull of silence. He guesses that maybe they’re both going to play dumb.

“Alright,” Harry answers. Over Harry’s shoulder, Liam can see Niall across the room, holding a pint and looking like he’s thinking of ways to break Liam in half. They’ll never be best mates now. “Not great, to be honest.”

Maybe they’re not, then.

“Harry, I’m sorr--”

“Don’t, please,” Harry cuts him off, shaking his head. “It’s-- I’d understand, if I did something wrong. But, I’ve been thinking about it, a lot actually, and we were good, right? We were having a good time. I don’t think I got the wrong end of the stick.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Liam pauses, tries to figure out what he’s actually trying to say. He’s never been the best with words, which is probably why they’re having this conversation now and not a few weeks ago. “That was the problem, for me--that it was just _fun_. I’ve never done the casual thing and I thought I could but. It wasn’t you, it wasn’t anything,” he takes a deep breath, avoiding Harry’s eye, “I just liked you so much. Too much for just-- just fun.”

“Casual thing” Harry repeats, like he doesn’t quite understand. He sounds sad and Liam’s never heard his voice like that before. He instantly hates it. 

“I understand. I know you don’t do relationships--”

“And who told you that? So-and-so from The Sun?” Harry sounds angry now, but his voice is still quiet and level and it’s even worse than if he was yelling. Liam hates that even more.

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, sounding a bit like a broken record. “I thought it’d be easier if we just stopped, if _I_ stopped before I--” _fell_ , he doesn’t say, like he hasn’t already taken a spiralling nosedive. 

People around the party are starting to look over now, like they’re about to witness a fight. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

Harry shakes his head, “I think I’m done with sneaking around.”

Liam’s heart drops.

“I thought we had something good, I told you it was different from before,” Harry says. His face is unreadable, and Liam’s heart drops further, if possible. It’s gone past his knees and his ankles and the soles of the feet and is now lying uselessly on the marble flooring of some hotel’s event room.

Harry looks down at his hands before he speaks again, “I know you’ve never done _casual_ but I think it’s a bit different to what you think. This-- staying nights at each others and knowing that you like your bacon a tiny bit burnt but your toast as slightly warm bread. That you’re terrible at waking up but will fall asleep anywhere. When you were ill, I wasn’t in the area, I was supposed to be leaving the bloody country and-- For gods sake Liam, I’m wearing your stained jumper. I wear it all the time. And I hate that I do because it doesn’t even smell like you anymore. That’s not casual. Yes, _fun_ but not casual.”

The whole world tips on it’s side and then doesn’t exactly right itself. Liam opens his mouth, trying to form words, but he’s not sure what to say. Probably to give his acceptance speech for the Biggest Idiot of the Year award. 

Harry continues before Liam can get the chance, “And if it’s the secrecy, like yeah that was hot and whatever but. It’d be nice to not care if people saw us, like. Walking down the street, holding hands, going for dinner where you cover absolutely everything in mayonnaise. If getting out of your house wasn’t like a spy mission.”

There is the smallest feeling of hope that Liam doesn’t want to hold on to too tight but Harry’s giving him that look again. The one Liam had to get him to explain. The one he’d never thought he’d see again. 

“And even though you’ve been a bit of a knob, it’d still be nice if I could kiss you right here, right now.”

Liam nearly drops his drink.

“You can,” Liam blurts out, trying to not let his words jumble into one. “I mean, I’d like it if you did.” Louis might punch him for the press shit storm after, but Liam finds that he doesn’t really care.

“I told you I never hated you, Liam. Quite the opposite, actually.” The smile that flashes across Harry’s face is one much more familiar, but it’s short-lived, as the next moment he’s kissing Liam. 

There is an audible silence around the room; except for Niall, who’s cheering. And Louis, who’s just joined in. Followed by the sound of hundreds of camera shutters. Liam hopes they’re getting his good side because he’s going to frame those pictures and hang them around his house.

Harry pulls back after a moment, but not too far. He leaves his hand resting on Liam’s waist, and Liam really wishes he didn’t have this stupid drink in his hand so he could touch Harry as much as he wanted. He’s considering just chucking it but there’s a lot of people and expensive things. The kiss is enough of a headline for tonight. 

“Is this how Batman and Catwoman got together?” Is the first thing out of Harry’s mouth, of course it is. 

“No,” Liam says with a laugh. “They faked their death, saved Gotham, ran away to France.”

“Wicked.” Harry beams. “Haven’t had a chance to go on the Eurostar yet.”

“How about we try for, like. Brighton first, maybe?” Liam reasons, because if they’re going to do this they’re going to do it right and Liam’s not going to ruin it by being _a bit of a knob._ “Take it slow, this time.”

“Gotcha.” Harry lifts a hand to shoot a finger-gun at Liam and it’s hard to believe that Liam ate his own weight in ice-cream because of this boy. “Brighton, Paris, Bora Bora. Soon we’ll be on Mars, sipping cocktails and getting tanned.”

“What have I gotten myself into?” Liam groans and Harry cackles.

“My pants,” Harry waggles his eyebrows. “Again.” 

Liam can’t even pretend to be exasperated because he’s missed Harry’s stupid face and his stupid jokes and hopefully in the next few hours he will be reunited with his stupid dick as well.

“So, we’re-- Like, everything’s--”

“I think,” Harry cuts off his rambling, turning serious again. “That we both got a bit swept up in the moment. We’re on the same page now, though. Right? Otherwise I will kick you. Well, Niall will. I’ll watch.”

“If it means anything, I don’t usually kiss my enemies in public,” Liam says. 

“But we’re not enemies,” Harry counters. “More like frenemies.”

“You’re going to tweet that aren’t you?” Liam sighs and Harry makes as if to reach for his phone.

Through the speakers, Mambo No.5 starts playing. Another great moment of Liam’s life ruined by Lou Bega.

“Can we get out of here?” Liam asks quietly, realising that there’s still a sea of phone cameras trained on them. Just because they can do this in public now doesn’t mean they should. 

Harry, bless him, is trying his absolute hardest to laugh as the song nears the chorus.

“Yes,” Harry agrees, taking a step back from Liam but lacing their fingers together instead. “Don’t even have to use the back exit, we could waltz out the front and ride an open top bus home.”

“I’ll just get Louis to call a car, shall I?” Liam suggests instead, tugging Harry through the crowd as Harry mumbles something about Liam and no sense of adventure and then he definitely hears something about Spy Kids. 

They opt for waiting for the car outside, getting away from Louis and Zayn who are devising a truly terrible plan to create an even bigger scene at the party in hopes that everyone will forget about Harry and Liam. It won’t work, but they’ve roped Niall in and he seems very excited by the whole thing.

It’s dark and a biting kind of freezing outside, just like the night they’d first kissed. Harry’s talking, filling in all the blank spots of his life that Liam made when he’d thought he was doing the right thing. 

Harry stops mid-sentence, noticing that Liam’s barely paying attention and is just staring at him, the way Harry’s lips move when he talks and the little crinkle between his brow when he’s concentrating on telling a story. Harry ducks his head, grinning to himself before he looks back up at Liam. 

The car’s taking way too long and Liams seriously considering running home with Harry on his back when he remembers that he doesn’t have to make sure all the curtains are drawn shut and that the door is locked and bolted. That he doesn’t have to tentatively peek around corners and hide in the back of restaurants anymore. He can just kiss Harry, standing there on the side of the road, under the light of a flickering streetlamp.

So Liam does just that.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr post [here](http://wearecities.tumblr.com/post/107261655954/these-shades-can-hide-us-from-the-streets)


End file.
